The Fortunes of Ektibar
by Beringae
Summary: It begins with a secret, kept for generations in one family, and when one woman decides to shatter the tradition of her kin and place her trust in the most unlikely of men, a venture unfolds that leaves her to question everything she knows. COMPLETE
1. Why d'you keep doin' that?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or any character from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. If I owned Captain Jack Sparrow, do you think I'd be writing this? No, we'd be too busy in the closet.  
  
Chapter: "Why d'you keep doin' that?"  
  
-  
  
Captain Sparrow! Open the door, ye slimy scallywag! Jus' because ye hole yerself up in yer cabin don't mean I'm not goin' to ignore the fact that ye're taken us to the very port that would like most to hang every one of us dead!" A tall, dark skinned woman thumped monotonously on the sturdy wooden door of the captain's cabin, before giving up and simply standing, glowering at the obstruction and waiting for him to open it, because if he didn't she'd give him the slap of a lifetime.  
  
Said captain groaned, squeezing his kohl-rimmed eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands, repeating a mantra he'd been using rather frequently as of late. "If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away. If I ignore 'er she'll go away."  
  
He nearly jumped out of his skin as his mumblings were met with a swift kick to his poor abused door and a muffled "I can hear you!" sounded through the room. Sighing, Jack rose from his seated position on the small bed, beads and various trinkets in his hair swinging against his face, and threw open the door. "Wha' is it you'd like to say, ye hellcat?" The captain asked cheerfully to the fuming woman before him. He was met, of course, with a sharp slap across the face. "Bloody hell, Anamaria! Why d'you keep doin' that?"  
  
Anamaria ignored both his questions, and instead poked him roughly in the middle of his chest. "Why are we goin' to Port Royal? After yer, say, sixth escape from the gallows ye know Norrington will jus' about shoot ye on sight!"  
  
"Aye, I know. But that's only if 'e sees me, savvy? An' we're goin' to visit old friends, remember? Or did you happen to miss that little fact when I told the rest o' the crew whilst you were plotting up new ways t' torture me?" Jack flashed one of his gold-plated grins at her, and she glared at him vehemently, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to leave.  
  
"Jus' don't 'spect me to be joinin' ye." Anamaria spat.  
  
"Suit yourself, love." Jack turned and retreated back into his cabin, rubbing his sore jaw. He retrieved one of his many bottles of rum (ah, the blessed substance), and uncorked it, lowering himself onto his sole chair and propping his feet up on his desk, shoving various maps and papers aside. "Poor thing, tha' Anamaria. can't resist me charms." Grinning faintly to himself, Captain Jack Sparrow lifted the rum to his lips and downed half the bottle in one breath.  
  
-  
  
Port Royal was renowned for it's picturesque hills and harbor, but Jack knew better. He knew of the whores that came out at night and the taverns were rum and other alcohol overflowed in the customers mugs. However, on this Sunday night, the town seemed to have given up its raucous nighttime ways. Jack wandered the streets alone, swaggering about in his own unique way, fingers and hands flying every which way, and singing his song as he went. He was supposed to be visiting the Turners, but for now, was content to saunter about the docks.  
  
"We're devils and black sheep and really bad eggs, drink up, me hearties, yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho." He continued on, stopping only to examine various boats and ships that were docked along the harbor.  
  
"SPARROW! We had an agreement! You were to stay away from Port Royal!" Jack didn't even have to turn around to know who was yelling at him.  
  
"Oh, that's bloody wonderful." Jack whispered quickly to himself, before his voice returned to its cheery and amiable tone. "Ah, if it isn't the famous Commodore Norrington, and 'is crew of musket bearin' countrymen! Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." Jack bowed low, but in response to Norrington's statement, he winced. "I know, mate, but it's jus' so hard for me to keep away. Mus' be your appeal, Norry." Much to the commodore's disgust, the captain winked suggestively at him.  
  
Jack noted with amusement the pink tinge that rose to Norrington's cheeks, but our dear commodore soon regained his air of pompous superiority. "Mullroy! Fetch some irons. We wouldn't want the captain here to escape from right under our noses again." He bellowed to someone within his group of ten or so accomplices, and then strode quickly up to Jack and grabbed his arm harshly.  
  
"'Ey, mate! No need ta be rough." Jack protested, but Norrington just gripped harder, his voice turning into a venomous hiss.  
  
"This time, Sparrow, you won't escape and humiliate me so easily. I swear, by tomorrow morning, your feet will be hanging three feet from the ground and we will be taking your body away in a coffin." Jack watched as the commodore's nose turned red with fury.  
  
"Alrigh', mate. Oak would be nice. For me coffin, I mean." Jack replied somewhat distractedly, barely containing the grin that threatened to appear upon his lips. Norrington thrust Jack in the direction of Mullroy, who began to place shackles around his wrists.  
  
Quite suddenly, Jack heard footsteps behind him. Light footsteps of feet clad in cotton slippers. He turned his head as much as Mullroy would let him.  
  
A woman was standing just to his left in naught but her nightgown and robe, and Jack could see, in the corner of his eye, Norrington blushing again. She's quite th' pretty little thing, isn't she? Jack thought faintly to himself. She was small and pale, with skin the color of cream in the moonlight and a sort of strange white bonnet covering her hair. Before Jack's eyes could wander innocently lower, Mullroy jerked him around, and he was left with just his ears to aid him.  
  
Jack heard Norrington stride towards her. "Miss Cuthburt, you really shouldn't be present at this time. I shall escort you back to your house." Jack could tell Norrington cared for this Miss Cuthburt greatly, for he was slightly breathless and his tone was kind. Well, this is interesting, Jack thought.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, James." Her voice was like silk. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?" Jack heard the commodore step back several steps, flabbergasted by her confidence in the midst of a wanted felon.  
  
Jack grinned widely, noticing that Mullroy was now distracted by the woman as well, and the shackles were firmly clasped onto his wrists, and his Pearl was but 100 yards away. What's more, the fool Mullroy had forgotten to confiscate his effects. This was too easy. He would've thought Norrington would have learned the ways of Captain Jack Sparrow by now. 


	2. Abduction

Chapter: Abduction

-

She couldn't breathe; the blackness was choking her. Her hair grew longer by the minute, trailing behind her like a dark cape and tripping her as she ran. The shadows, her demons, were chasing her, their long, searching fingers reaching out to stroke her shoulders, back, breasts, thighs, hair. She could feel their clammy caresses, and fought to cry out. One of the shadows unsheathed a sword, burying it deep into her side, and she fell, gasping for breath as they sifted their bony fingers through her hair, slicing off the curls one by one. She couldn't move. . .

-

Sophia Cuthburt jerked herself from her nightmare-riddled slumber with a harsh intake of breath. Tears were streaming down her pale face unchecked, sweat glistening like diamonds on her brow. She tried to take several deep breaths, closing her eyes and trying to slow her racing pulse. "It's not real." Sophia whispered to the darkness. 

She tried to sit up, but winced as the whalebone structure of her corset gouged into her side. Grumbling faintly about wearing "bloody torture devices" to bed, she lowered herself back to the slightly damp folds of her blankets. 

Her mother had insisted that she wear corsets to sleep when she became of marriageable age. "God knows what her figure will look like in twenty years. We've wasted enough time already!" Lady Cuthburt would whisper to the maids as they laced her up, every night tighter than the last, for Commodore Norrington's attentions lately had encouraged her mother even more so. 

Sophia shuddered at the memory of the stiff commodore. His advances disgusted her. He was surely more than twice her age and as rigid and unforgiving in the rules of society. She would rather have an adventure or go sailing off to the Mediterranean than be married any day. 

She often considered her mother's persistence a waste of time as she gazed at her reflection on the slightly hazy surface of her mirror. Sophia's face was heart shaped, her skin the color of the cream she sometimes helped the cook skim from fresh cow's milk. Her cheeks always contained a faint cherry hue, and several freckles dotted across her nose and cheekbones, but Sophia would look at the glowing golden complexions of some of the girls her age with envy. 

Her eyes were gray. Not a normal gray blue or green, but completely colorless, the exact shade of the sky on an overcast day, and many people grew uncomfortable after holding her gaze for more than several seconds. Except when she smiled, for when Sophia smiled her eyes sparkled and shone. 

Her hair. . .  Sophia never talked about nor showed her hair, and barely remembered what it looked like loose and shining in the sun. She had worn it in a tight bun and under a concealing bonnet since her fifteenth year. Every time she was alone let it rove loose across her shoulders and down her back, for it reached nearly down to the top of her buttocks, she could feel phantom fingers across her scalp and pulling at the curling locks.

Overall, she thought her reflection plain and odd-looking in compared to the shining, blushing, golden appearances of the other girls. Apparently the Commodore didn't think so, according to the giddy gossip of her few friends. "I think he wants to marry you!" They would whisper daringly.

Sophia was wrenched from her musings when a resounding shout of "SPARROW!" echoed through the empty streets of Port Royal. She stood up, padding towards the window and checking to make sure no stray hairs had escaped from her cap. She grimaced when the window squeaked as it was being opened; she didn't want to wake her mother.  

The sight that met her eyes was an odd one by Port Royal's standards. Ten or so officials in their characteristic red uniforms along with Commodore Norrington stood around an extravagantly gesturing man clearly conversing with the commodore. Sophia could faintly hear something about oak coffins. 

Grasping her robe from its folded position on her bed stand, she hastily threw it around her shoulders and swept down the staircase, her slippers muting her footsteps, the silk fabrics billowing out behind her. _I'll be damned if I'm going to miss the one moderately exciting event in Port Royal this year! _She thought bitterly as she threw open the door. The gesturing man was now being shackled, and Sophia eyed him warily as she made her way towards the scene, wondering if it had been a good idea to leave the warm sanctuary of her sheets. Norrington was overseeing the shackling of the man, and failed to notice her approach.  

Abruptly the captured man swiveled his head to face her, and Sophia had to stifle a gasp at his appearance. He was undoubtedly the most radically strange man she had ever set eyes on. His hair was styled in what could only be described as dreadlocks and reached well past his shoulders, with various beads, coins, and other trinkets braided in. He wore a rather grubby tri-cornered hat, underneath which a fading red sash was tied around his forehead, the ends of the fabric falling to brush his shoulders and back. His face was deeply tanned and angular, with defined cheekbones and a straight, well-shaped nose. He sported a rakish mustache and a strange sort of goatee, the ends braided into two plaits secured with a bead on their ends. He was dressed in a very worn and filthy white shirt and dark bluish, loose fitting trousers that were tucked into knee-high brown boots. Over all this he wore a long gray coat. He still wore his cutlass and pistol, which Sophia thought rather strange since he was obviously being arrested. And his eyes. . . his eyes were black in the darkness of the night and rimmed with a thick layering of kohl, and his gaze bored into her very essence. His lips formed a most likely unconscious half-grin as she approached, transforming his face into a picture of roguish mischief. 

Sophia felt a flush beginning to rise to her cheeks hurried to distract herself by turning to address Commodore Norrington, but just as she was beginning to ask what the trouble was, he noticed her and came marching over. She noticed the look of bafflement on his face at her arrival and the pink tinge on his cheeks, and was somewhat pleased that she had disrupted the commodore's routine. This brief joy was transferred quickly to repulsion as he smiled and his eyes glanced appraisingly over her features 

"Miss Cuthburt, you really shouldn't be present at this time. I shall escort you back to your house." Norrington grasped her elbow gently to steer her away from the sight of the. . .  dare I say it? Criminal. _He treats me like a bloody cow_, thought Sophia.

"Don't be ridiculous, James. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Now, will one of you please tell me what's going on?" She replied coolly, jerking her elbow from his grip. Her venomous look startled him so that he took several steps back. 

All at once, a flurry of movement caught her eye. The shackled man had sprung into action, slamming his elbow into the closest guard's nose and sprinting around behind her. Before she had time to react, he had the chain of his irons wrapped forebodingly around her delicate nape and her back was pressed firmly to the unforgiving expanse of his chest. Sophia yelped in a quite unladylike fashion and her frightened eyes shifted from one guard to another. She felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against her temple and heard the devil of a man behind her cock it in preparation to shoot. _Oh god. He's going to kill you, _a surprisingly calm voice in her head said.

Jack couldn't have been happier at the moment, and the look on Norrington's face was enough to keep him laughing for weeks to come. He threw a self-satisfied grin in the guard's direction. "Remember this little trick, Norrington? I though' you woulda figured me out, by now. Quite th' pretty little thing, eh?" Jack motioned with his pistol towards the poor girl currently trembling against his chest, and leaned over her shoulder to catch a glimpse down her conveniently open nightgown, much to Norrington's dismay. 

Sophia was becoming very aware of her senses. She could feel herself shaking and the slight breeze that brushed its jealous fingers against her skin. She could hear the man behind her breathing, a rough, feral sound. The smell of rum, which she barely recognized, and seawater assaulted her nose. She could also feel the anger rising in her chest as the man holding her captive took advantage of his view, and Sophia suddenly stomped down hard on his foot, although her slipper clad heel did little damage to his toes. In result the barrel of his pistol was pushed harder into her temple. 

Jack smirked, bending down to whisper quietly in her ear, raising his hand not occupied with the pistol to brush his fingers across the curve of her neck. Sophia stiffened. "You're feisty, love, an' I like me woman t' have a little fire. If you do somethin' like tha' again, _Miss Cuthburt_, I'll consider it an invitation, aye?" 

Sophia's eyes widened and a strange glazed quality overtook their usual clarity as his words sunk in. She stopped shivering, willing herself not to faint, as the blasted corset was restricting the breath she very much needed as of now. 

Norrington, having been too stunned to speak, finally snapped from his shocked state. His face turned an alarming shade of red as he took a step towards Jack. "Sparrow! Unhand her this moment, unless you wish to be shot numerous times through the chest!" The commodore glared in Mullroy's direction. "You didn't take his belongings?" He spat disapprovingly, and the poor guard all but quivered at Norrington's scowl.

"Gentlemen! I think there's a more pressin' matter at hand, aye?" Jack reminded them loudly. "Now, I shall be returnin' to me ship withou' trouble as long as you fine men don' cause any trouble, savvy?" Jack slowly began to back towards the direction of the Pearl, dragging his captive along with him. By now, his crew had gathered around the edge of the ship and was ready and waiting to pull him up. 

Norrington was at a loss. Was he to let Sparrow escape and face more humiliation at the hands of the townspeople, or order his men to capture him but risk Sophia being shot? 

"Come, come, Commodore. I really don' have all day. Shall I release this fine lady 'ere, or jus' do away with 'er?" At the commodore's reluctance, Jack sighed and tightened the chain around Sophia's neck. "I'm beginnin' t' doubt your affections for 'er, mate. Honestly, I woulda expected more from you."

Sophia was glaring at the commodore, the intensity of her hatred for him only increasing. Was he honestly going to place the capture of a normal, everyday criminal over her well-being? Although, the name Sparrow was faintly familiar. . . 

Finally, Norrington spoke, his voice cold and full of loathing. "If you release her, Sparrow, you will be shot. The gallows is to pleasant a death for you."

Jack shrugged, replacing his pistol on his belt. "Alrigh', Commodore. Until next time, then." He replied cheerily, before whirling swiftly and taking off at high speed down the docks, dragging his hostage with him.

Sophia was having trouble keeping up with Jack, for she had long skirts to worry about and the corset didn't help at all. She heard gunshots behind them, and managed to let out a little whimper between great heaving breaths. After what seemed like an eternity, the pair reached a hulking ship, and Sophia felt a faint flutter of fear as she gazed up at its huge black hull and sails. Hands reached down and lifted them up onto the Black Pearl's deck. Sophia's legs gave out from under her the moment her feet touched solid ground, and she was left gasping on the cold, slightly slimy deck. Trying to calm herself, she concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, but soon found that impossible due to the corset's restriction on her ribs. 

Jack ignored the girl on the deck and stood at the bow of the ship as it pulled away, grasping onto the riggings for support. Waving his pistol around dramatically, he yelled back at the dumbstruck guards. "Gents! You will always remember this as th' day you almos' caught. . . Captain Jack Sparrow!" Jack raised his pistol, aimed carefully, and fired. The bullet shot straight through the gaping Norrington's hat and it flew right off his head. 

Sophia was dazed. Captain Jack Sparrow? The pirate? The same Captain Jack Sparrow who had escaped from Port Royal not one, but, taking into account the recent events, eight times? She sat on the deck, pondering this and staring straight ahead, strangely disconnected from the movement of the crew around her. 

Jack turned around to face the expanse of the ship, muttering. "Bloody Norrington. I was willin' t' make negotiations! An' now I 'ave a spittin' wench aboard. BLOODY HELL!" Venting his frustrations, Jack rammed his foot against the mast of the ship. He hated taking captives. They were more trouble than they were worth, always making a fuss and causing trouble aboard the ship.

Sophia jumped at the captain's outburst, her eyes fearful. After what seemed like several minutes of Jack simply staring out into the ocean, he finally took notice of the alien presence on his ship and strode promptly towards her, grasping her arm and lugging her from the ground. His eyes were surprisingly kind, and Sophia found this comforting compared to the display of vehemence he had previously shown. She suddenly became aware that, for the second time that night, tears were creeping steadily down her cheeks, and dropped her gaze to the ground, ashamed. 

Jack found himself pitying the girl. It really wasn't her fault she'd been thrown into this mess, and he'd used her shamelessly to his advantage. Sighing, he dug for several moments through his pockets, producing a grubby handkerchief and placing it carefully in her small hand. "I'm sorry abou' that, love. Couldn't be 'elped. Take what ye can, aye?" He smiled faintly at her, abruptly noticing the strange gray hue of her eyes. 

The familiar anger was welling in Sophia's chest once more. _He expects to apologize and_ _be forgiven that easily? _She thought resentfully. Before she could realize what she was doing, her hand was flying in a rapid arc towards his cheek. The resulting noise resonated throughout the ship, but the crew didn't even pause in their work.

"Mr. Sparrow! I cannot believe you expect to be forgiven for that act of _extreme _impertinence you just committed!" She stood there fuming, positively glowering in her lightheadedness. In fact, she was becoming quite dizzy. . . 

Before Jack held up his index finger, intending to correct her incorrect use of his name, but before he could utter his famous "Captain Sparrow, if you please." Sophia fell in a dead faint to the deck.

-

A/N: Sorry, guys. I had to have a faint in there at some point! Next Chapter: Waking up in Jack's bed, more backstory, and MAJOR corset troubles!    


	3. A Riddle of Sorts

Chapter: A Riddle of Sorts

-

Jack watched the woman he knew as Miss Cuthburt shift fretfully on his bed, his brow creasing at her restlessness. She was, after all, unconscious. After she dropped limply onto the floor, much to his surprise, Jack had grumbled sullenly, intending to leave her where she fell, but after Anamaria had shot him a meaningful and slightly threatening glance, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his cabin, dropping her unceremoniously and none too gently on the hard mattress of his cot. _Th' woman bloody slapped me after I apologized! _Jack remembered fuming to himself. _An' people don' get an apology from Captain Jack Sparrow very often!  _Now, as he sat within his cabin and twirling one dreadlock thoughtfully, Jack had the time to examine this mystery of a girl more closely, narrowing his eyes and obscuring their smoky depths as he did so. 

While he had thought of her as passively attractive at first glance, Jack now found the exotic elegance that encompassed her features curiously fascinating. His eyes swept leisurely across her small frame, noting in admiration the manner in which her rose petal-like lips were slightly open in slumber, how her neck curved artistically to connect with her shoulders, the delicate curve of her left breast he could spy through a slight opening in her nightgown, and the slender ankle and calve protruding from the folds of her robe. The cap she had so carefully placed on her head had been somewhat dislodged, and Jack could see a shadow of dark hair contrasting starkly with the tone of her skin at the nape of her neck, and he found himself staring at that unlikely spot, marveling in the few wispy tendrils that were visible from his viewpoint. 

Snapping himself from his state of reverie, Jack hastily swiped a jug-like bottle of amber liquid from his desk, leaning back in his chair, uncorking it, and raising his bottle to the unconscious girl. "Well, love. It looks like it's goin' t' be a long night for both o' us." He tipped back and allowed a sizable portion of rum to flow down his throat, hoping it would quell his interest in this Miss Cuthburt. 

- 

Sophia drifted from hazy nothingness to crystal-clear dreams and memories and back again as she lay unconscious in an unknown bed. Every so often she would mumble incomprehensible phrases or emit a quiet sort of whimpering sigh and the fair skin of her forehead would furrow as if in thought. Broken flashes of objects and events blinked in rapid succession across her closed eyelids, the pictures senseless in order and meaning, and if brain had been working normally they would have reminded her of a bad novel. 

The sporadic images abruptly ceased as a once familiar but now long forgotten memory resurfaced within her mind, and Sophia jerked as a recognizable pain burst across the front of her torso when the memory took hold.

-

Six-year-old Sophia lay whimpering on her bed, sobbing as the new sensation of intense pain wracked her young body. Her father had carried her into her room and placed her gently on the sheets, apologizing briefly before ripping open the small shift she wore and staring in absolute horror at her torso. "No. . .  Not again. Not her." He had whispered. 

Sophia had fallen off the docks and into the cold depths of the harbor. She'd never learned to swim, so she did not resurface and her father dove immediately in after her. When they again reached the surface and blessed oxygen, Sophia was screaming. Not in fear but in a pain so intense that she lost all knowledge of her surroundings. 

She now lay scratching hopelessly at her burning chest and stomach, crying and calling for her mother. Lady Cuthburt ran in, hair askew, took one look at her daughter's wreathing form, and fell in a heap of skirts onto the floor. It was only then that Sophia dared to look at her body.

Strange welts spanned from between her nonexistent breasts to just below her navel, their angry red color frightening the young girl and causing her to cry out louder than even before. Sophia could feel their alien ridges with her fingertips, and it seemed that each angle and crevasse emanated the waves of raw pain that coursed through her limbs. 

Sophia's father had begun to teach Sophia to read roughly a year ago, and she had caught on fast. Lord Cuthburt was a patient and rewarding teacher, and his daughter loved him for it and in turn adored their reading sessions.

Sophia thought she recognized some of the welts as words. 

After around five minutes, the wounds disappeared, and Sophia was left with no effects of the event, and found herself wondering if she'd dreamed the entire thing up. But no, there was her mother, being revived from her faint by one of the maids. Once she was restored to her healthy state, Sophia could hear her parents talking outside the door.

"Every woman in your family? Good Lord, Esteban! Why didn't you tell me?" Her mother's voice was hysterical, but her father's tone was considerably more quiet and calming. This interaction completely described their relationship. Her mother was fluttery and indiscreet, and her father was the rock in which his wife could lean. 

"Because, darling, I knew you would act as you are now, and I wasn't sure if she even had it."

"Had what? What exactly is it?" Lady Cuthburt sounded on the verge of fainting all over again. Her voice was high and breathless. Sophia strained to hear her father's reply, but he had dropped his voice.

"It's a riddle of sorts. It gives clues to something, and in order for Sophia to remain safe I can't reveal what it is now. Not even to you, dearest Chelsea."

Sophia heard a sharp crack through the door. Her mother had slapped him.

-

Sophia groaned as a sharp sliver of sunlight shone across her eyes. Because of her fainting escapade, she assumed, her head felt as if it was going to explode. She guessed that she had slept at least three hours. Blinking, Sophia sat up, the sheets that had been covering her upper body falling rumpled into her lap. Her robe had come untied and the lacing of her nightgown was indecently loose. Hastily, she righted her clothing and cap, before examining her surroundings. 

She seemed to be in a small cabin of sorts. The floor and some of the walls were wood, a rich dark brown, with surprisingly intricate carvings along the trim. She saw a desk in the corner, on which a compass, maps, and other trinkets and documents lay. Sophia looked out the window directly across from her, and started when all she saw was the clear blue ocean. Oh damn. That's wonderful. There was a door to her right, which she assumed led to a bathroom, closet, or outside. A moderately sized bookshelf stood against the wall. Sophia could make out the works of Shakespeare and other classics along with several books concerning the history of Pirates. 

Pirates. That's right, she had been kidnapped by a pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow, to be exact, the most feared pirate in the Caribbean. 

The absurdity of the situation made Sophia's senses acute, and she heard a soft clinking sound in the corner of the room, by a second door. She turned to find a pair of dark eyes, Jack Sparrow's eyes, staring at her. She shrieked and promptly fell of the bed. 

"Don't stare at me like that, you bloody pirate!" Sophia glared menacingly at Jack as he sat motionless in his chair, bottle of amber liquid in hand, watching her get up and perch back on the bed with a slight smile quirking at his lips. 

"Don' go insultin' me, lass. After all, your th' one who slapped me after I apologized for draggin' you on me ship." Sophia detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Not tha' I minded, o' course. You're lovely t' watch sleep." Sophia watched his hands as they waved about expressively. Very strange. He grinned cheekily at her.

Sophia chose to ignore his words lest she issue him yet another clout across the face. She stared him down, her steely eyes narrowed in what she hoped was a defiant expression. In actuality, she was quite shaken, the events of the past several hours finally sinking in. I might never see my family again. . .

Still, she managed to keep her voice from wavering. "Mr. Sparrow, I – "  

"Captain." Jack interrupted, taking a swig of his beloved rum. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"This charmin' vessel be me ship, The Black Pearl. I am in charge o' it. Therefore, you will call me Captain, savvy?" Jack hadn't meant for his voice to sound so cold and unforgiving, but he was already beginning to associate annoyance with this exasperating woman. The fascinating quality he had found in her in sleep and the brief silence when she had awoke was quickly dissipating.

Sophia shrank back at his tone, her own loosing its previous boldness. "Well then, Captain Sparrow, I would like to know where you are taking me. And if you are not taking me anywhere, I would like to know how much longer I shall live." Her voice faltered at the last question.

Jack watched the girl, noticing with slight amusement her wavering confidence. She thinks I'm goin' t' kill 'er. He mused leisurely. No, killing hostages was not Jack's way. Although, when his luck was good, seducing and having his way with them was, but he sensed that this woman would not be one of his usual conquests. He tugged on his mustache as he studied her. 

She had pulled her knees to her chest, and was now looking at him with scared, wide eyes. Those gray eyes. . .  they startled him every time she looked at him straight on. Her frightened expression made her seem unbelievably innocent. No, this would not be one for seducing. He was not looking for another slap, and she was already frightened enough. Besides, he'd just be dropping her off at the next port. Damn his barely existent conscience! 'S a pity though. . .  I wouldn' mind bein' between those thighs. Jack grinned faintly at the thought. 

He was staring at her. Sophia averted her eyes demurely, her cheeks flushing. The men she was used to never looked at a woman that was not his wife for more than about ten seconds. This Captain Sparrow was bordering on a minute, and both the silence and the awareness of his eyes on her was making her tremendously uncomfortable. She opened her mouth, intending to ask her question once more, wondering if he had perhaps not heard, but closed it again, frowning. Something about his expression forbid her to speak. Jack suddenly shifted from his daydreaming, perceiving for the first time her self-consciousness. He rose from his chair, swaggering towards her to stand over her seated form. "What's yer name, lass?" 

Sophia's face was level with Jack's pelvis, and she had to crane her head up to look him in the eye, forcing down the flush that threatened to rise on her cheeks and neck in result to his close proximity. She instantly regretted it when she did, for his eyes were full of mirth. He was mocking her! The bastard was getting actual amusement from her discomfort! Sophia positively glowered at him.

"Sophia Cuthburt." Her voice was bitter and expressionless. 

"Well, Sophia –" 

"Miss Cuthburt." 

"Wha'?" 

Sophia's tone was sarcastic. Let's see who's mocking who now! "Captain, I am a respectable woman, not some tavern wench or whore you pick up off the streets. Therefore, you will call me Miss Cuthburt, savvy?" She couldn't help but enjoy the look on his face at their sudden reversal of roles. 

"Aye. Well then, Miss Cuthburt, I'll leave you t' your own devices. Jus'. . .  stay 'ere. Some o' the men 'ave been 'board for some months, an' might no' be as gentlemanly as I am." He smirked as Sophia blanched before nodding silently. Without another word, Jack turned and paraded towards the door, shutting it none to quietly behind him. Sophia glared icy daggers at his back as he went. 

Jack grinned as he closed the door. He loved toying with the proper ones. 

-

Sophia spent the remainder of the day bored out of her mind. She couldn't concentrate enough to read, and the maps and other things on the desk quickly lost their allure, so she resigned to exploring the cabin, her fear of the pirates keeping her within Jack's quarters. 

The other door within the room did in fact lead to a small but comfortable bathroom with a deep, claw-footed tub, although it did look rather cobwebby and she guessed that bathing wasn't on Jack's everyday list. Drinking, it seemed, was. Inside a large drawer in the pirate's desk, Sophia found twenty or so bottles of what she assumed was rum. She briefly considered dumping their entire contents down the sink just to spite the great Captain Sparrow, but, remembering the slightly feral quality to his eyes when she'd caught him staring at her, quickly disposed of that idea. There was also a small table and chairs, and after some consideration decided that it must be used for dining. She then despaired at the fact that she was wondering about the usage of tables.

 It was only then that Sophia noticed how extremely uncomfortable she was. It seemed, due to her various running, fainting, and falling off the bed episodes, her corset had decided to jab her in numerous places along her waist and ribcage. Not to mention that it had seemingly grown yet tighter in the night. Consequently, when Jack returned to his cabin that night around suppertime, he found Sophia lying on his bed, desperately trying not to take deep breaths and staring morosely at the ceiling. 

"Don' sulk, love. 'S not attractive on you." Jack declared impishly as he closed the door behind him, casting his dark gaze around the room, and noticing the changes in the room due to Sophia's exploring. "Been snooping, 'ave we?" 

Sophia sat up, intending to reprimand his calling her "love", but immediately groaned and sank back down into the sheets. Jack, of course, was oblivious to her discomfort.

"Now, jus' t' set things straight, I'm goin' t' give you two choices. Ye can either calm tha' bloody tongue o' yours an' make this voyage more enjoyable for th' both o' us, or ye can continue tha' little display you put on this mornin' an' I'll 'ave t' discipline you 'owever much the circumstance demands. . . " Jack grinned suggestively at the wide-eyed girl on the bed, several scenarios of the "punishment" he might bestow upon her flashing briefly in his mind, accompanied by loud moans and. . .  Jack shook his head, clearing his thoughts and returning to the matter at hand. ". . .but either way – "

"Mr. – er, Captain Sparrow?" Sophia's interrupted, her voice strained and gasping. "There wouldn't happen to be another woman aboard, would there?"

Jack swayed over to his desk, extracting yet another bottle of rum, still unknowing of her distress. "O' course there is, love! Tha's  Anamaria, tha' is. She pulls as much weight as any o' the other men on me ship. Strong as a bloody ox, she is."

Sophia had to control herself to keep from walloping the man about the head again for forcing her to listen to his useless babble. She managed to keep her voice relatively sugary. "Well, do you think we could have a visit, then? It's difficult being alone much of the time." Sophia was becoming desperate. One particularly persistent stay kept prodding her in her right side.

Jack stared at her momentarily, his continuously moving fingers freezing in midair, before chuckling. "I don' think Anamaria's the sort o' woman you'd want t' 'ave a chat with, lass. An' besides, she be on watch duty in th' crows nest t'night."

"Oh. . . Well." Sophia felt as if she were going to cry. Damn her mother to hell for making her wear this thing!

Jack must have finally noticed the pain etched across her features, for he, quite suddenly, strutted towards her and gazing overtly into her face. "Whoss wrong, love?" He'd apparently taken several swigs of rum, for his breath smelled quite strongly of a spicy, alcoholic flavor and he seemed to be slightly unsteady on his feet. Well, more unsteady than usual.

Sophia sighed, defeated. I can't very well embarrass myself more than I already have, can I? She thought miserably. Glancing towards the floor, she folded her hands across her thighs and spoke, her voice faintly ashamed.  "It's my corset. Lately I've had to wear it while sleeping, and I'm afraid I'm unaccustomed to it for such long periods of time. I think it's broken, as well." Sophia stared at her lap, awaiting the laughter she was sure she'd receive in response to her confession.

But no, the pirate did not laugh, although she did notice a quick flash of hilarity in his eyes. He instead grabbed onto her elbow and lugged her into a standing position, much to her painful protests and gasping. "'Ere, lass. Let me 'elp you." 

In any other circumstance, Sophia would have most likely flat out refused. However, she was in quite a lot of pain and the lack of air to her brain must have been affecting her judgment, for she obediently shed her robe and nightgown and was left with just a thin silk under gown beneath the torture device itself. The scanty silk thing was intended more to keep the corset from chaffing against her skin than anything else and did little to disguise the outline of her breasts and thighs. Sophia was left with a distinct feeling of nakedness once her outer garments had been shed and quickly turned her back, leaving him to work on the corset. 

Oh bloody 'ell. Jack couldn't help but to allow his eyes to wander downwards as she removed the majority of her clothing, but soon forced himself to concentrated the task of the corset. He grimaced at the sight of her cinched waist, and having learned from experience, didn't waste time with the laces. With a quick downward stroke of his knife, the offending garment fell to the floor with a faint clunk. 

"Oh. . . " Sophia sighed happily, spanning her hands around her waist to ensure that no permanent damage had been done to the sensitive area. 

Jack found his eyes glued to the creamy flesh of her shoulders and back and smooth expanse skin, knife still in hand, watching the delicate frame of muscles and joints move beneath it as she reveled in the freedom of her waist. He was beginning to feel the familiar pull in his belly. . . No. Not for seducin', this one. Stop it, Jack! He squeezed his eyes shut.

Sophia turned around only to find the pirate holding her robe and nightgown that had fallen on the floor out towards her in one hand and busying himself with gazing intently out the window. 

Needless to say, she took them.

-     

". . .An' so I had t' say goodbye t' 'er. Poor lass. Bloody well in love wi' me, she was. But I said, 'No, 'Lizabeth. It would never o' worked between us.'" Jack nodded solemnly, propping his boot-clad feet on the table. "By this time, th' guards were gettin' impatient, so I stood a' th' edge o' the cliff an' said, "Gents! You will always remember this as th' day you almos' caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" an' then I dove gracefully off the cliff an' t' me awaiten' Pearl below." He flashed Sophia, who was sitting across from him at the table and picking grimly at her plate of food, a complacent grin.

Sophia had been extremely grateful when a young cabin boy brought the two supper shortly after she had once again donned her nightgown for she was very hungry. However, as soon as Jack launched into a tale of one of his numerous escapes from Port Royal (she expected the story had changed somewhat over the years to his liking), she grew bored. Sophia now stared at the swaying rum bottle in the captain's hand, watching the tawny liquid slosh hazardously about. Noticing where her attention lay, Jack offered her a drink, thrusting the bottle towards her drunkenly.

Sophia eyed the substance warily. What could it hurt? She grasped the bottle around the neck, her fingertips brushing his as she did so. She flinched. 

"No need t' fear ol' Jack 'ere, love." His words were faintly slurred. 

Sophia raised her gaze from the rum she was holding, only to find his eyes, clouded slightly with drink, on her face. Staring him right in the eye, she took a small sip, wincing as the liquor burned down her throat.  

"That is the most vile thing I have ever tasted." She stated, clunking the bottle harshly on the table, her mouth still slightly puckered from taste of the drink. Jack quickly snatched his beloved rum up, cradling it to his chest. He reminded her of a man guarding his lifesavings. 

"Don' insult me rum!" 

-

Jack had insisted, rather insensitively she thought, on keeping his bed for the night. And thus, not wishing to subject herself to the other pirates' sexual harassment she was sure to receive if she were to brave their resting places, Sophia was left to sleep on the floor. Remembering how she found Jack staring at her last time she awoke in his presence, she stole a blanket from his bed coverings, and ignoring the muffled "'Ey!" from the misshapen lump that resided within them, padded off to the bathroom, muttering in disgust. "Bloody pirates. Scoundrels, all of them. No manners a'tall."

The door didn't lock, but it was the best she could do. Seeing as the bathtub was the largest open space within the tiny room, she clambered inside, and, despite her discomfort, was asleep in seconds. 

-

Jack, however, wasn't asleep. What was he going to do with that bloody girl? He couldn't very well give her a rowboat and tell her to row to the nearest land. Nor could he drop her off in some random port and leave her to be raped, and most likely killed. No, Jack didn't want her blood on his hands. 

Nassau Port, that's where he'd take her. It had enough of the royal sort of people in it for her to find a way home unharmed, and yet enough of the pirating types for him to blend right in. Of course, they weren't too happy with him as of late. They just couldn't let go of that whole sacking thing. 

-

Sophia awoke to the creaking of the door. She blinked groggily, expecting another ray of sunlight to blind her as soon as she rolled over, but instead was met with darkness. Well, darkness and a bootless, shirtless Jack Sparrow. 

He didn't notice her. Staggering through the room, he kept one hand out and splayed against the wall to guide himself. Sophia couldn't help but notice the taut, lean muscles that glided under the bronze span of his skin as he moved and the broad width of his shoulders. She hadn't expected the captain to be so. . .  built.        

It wasn't until he began unbuttoning his trousers that she realized what he intended to do. Blushing furiously, she spoke, her voice breaking the delicate silence. "Captain, for future reference, next time you come into a woman's er. . .  sleeping quarters intending to relieve yourself, please warn her before you do so." 

Jack whirled around, hands poised at the buttons of his britches, the sinews in his chest and back tense in his surprise, before aiming her an easy smile in her direction. "Sure thing, love."

Nodding rather lamely, Sophia clutched the blankets around her shoulders and marched from the bathroom. 

"By th' way, Miss Cuthburt, people o' the normal sort don' usually sleep in bathtubs, jus' t' let y'know."

She slammed the door behind her.

-

Several hours later, Sophia lay, still very much awake and fuming in the darkness. Oh, that man was in for it. She'd show him. He was nothing but an ignorant, self-absorbed, disgusting barbarian, and she would make it known to him just exactly how she felt. Oh, yes. By the time they reached the next port, he would be begging her to leave. With a smile, Sophia could imagine his words at that moment: Off me ship, lass! LEAVE, ye bloody wench! 

And so it was that Sophia Cuthburt resolved to make Captain Jack Sparrow's life a living hell.    

-

A/N: Whew! That chapter turned out kind of long. 

Here's the deal. At least on my computer, the italics seem to be not working when I upload it, so must of the thoughts that characters have should be in italics, but aren't. Sorry if this causes confusion, but I have faith you guys can figure it out. :)

And please, tell me what you think of it!


	4. The Tormenting of Jack Sparrow

Chapter: The Tormenting of Jack Sparrow

-

Cold. Something was cold and wet on his face. 

Jack wrenched himself from his blissful slumber, only to be met with a crashing, destructive headache, water streaming down his face, and Sophia poking repeatedly at his bare arm, holding a now empty bucket.  

"You're not dead, then?" She peered carefully into his face, examining the haziness in his eyes.

"O' course not, woman! Wha' the bloody 'ell are you doin'?" 

"You wouldn't wake up! So I. . .  well. . ." She motioned vaguely towards the bucket and bathroom. "Water." 

"So I see. Well, Miss Cuthburt, nex' time someone don' wake up when you shake 'em check th' bloody pulse 'fore you decide t' go an' pour bloody water all over their bloody faces!" Jack sat up, gesturing wildly as he spoke and glaring ominously at the shrinking woman before him. It was only then that he got a good look at her clothing. 

Save for the cap she seemed to always wear over her hair, she'd discarded her previous outfit and opted for more practical garb: a much to big shirt and pants. The shirt reached down to her mid-thighs and the pants dragged inelegantly on the floor. In fact, they did look somewhat familiar. . . 

"_You stole me clothes!_" Jack actually took a menacing step towards her, and if he hadn't gained control over himself he would have probably shook the life out of the infuriating wench. 

Sophia was watching this display of rarely shown temper with hidden amusement. Sifting through the disgusting wads of clothing around the room for something that at least halfway fit was proving to be worth it. The captain was positively raging. "Well you couldn't expect me to wander around a pirate ship in naught but my nightgown, now could you?" She questioned, simpering innocently.

Jack just grumbled, reaching for his previously abandoned shirt and replaced it over his slightly damp form with jerky movements uncharacteristic to the normally suave captain. Sophia surveyed all of this mildly, a faint smile threatening to betray her mood. Slipping on his boots, Jack strode quickly towards to door into the outside world. "Stay 'ere, Sophia."

The afore mentioned woman grumbled something that sounded to Jack's ears like, "Miss Cuthburt, you repulsive bastard," before following him outside, blinking into the sunlight.

"I will not 'stay 'ere'! You left me all alone for the entire day yesterday, and I won't stand for it! I'm not a child, Mr. Sparrow. I can take care of myself!"

Jack whirled abruptly around to face her, his mouth pressed into a thin line, clapping his hands onto her shoulders and backing her up until she was pressed firmly against the now closed door. His eyes were flecked with an angry gold hue, and she could feel his hands tremble briefly against her shoulders in an effort to control his fury-fueled actions. Sophia could smell, once again, that strange mixture of rum and the sea. She felt a faint quiver of fear, or at least she hoped it was fear, shoot down her spine. 

Jack's voice was strained. "Firs' of all, lass, there's a good reason you were t' remain in me cabin, an' second, I am th' captain an' as long as you are on me ship, which thankfully shouldn' be much longer, you will obey me rules, savvy?" 

Sophia nodded, her eyes downcast. Jack was seemingly satisfied with this response, for her released her and swaggered off to the front of the ship in his usual fashion, not looking back to see if she would return to his cabin.

-

Gibbs found Jack at the helm of the Pearl, staring fixedly into the ocean with one hand on the wheel. He spoke quietly, as to not jerk his captain from his state of daydream. "Y'know, Cap'n, 's frightful bad luck t' –"

"I know. 'S bad luck t' have a woman aboard." Jack's voice was distant. 

The bloody woman had gotten to him, of that he was sure. It was not often that he lost his temper over something as small as a nasty wake up call and some stolen clothes. It was something about the way she looked at them with those stupid, big gray eyes. Something about those eyes said, "Here, Jack. Look at me. What are you going to do about it?" Jack turned to face his fellow pirate, his calloused thumb unconsciously stroking the worn wood of the Black Pearl's wheel.  

"An' for once, Gibbs, I think I migh' agree with you." 

-      

Jack was avoiding her. Sophia had spent the entire day wandering aimlessly around the ship, and even when he caught sight of her leaning precariously over the railing on the starboard side to catch a look at the waves crashing against the hull as they sped along, he did nothing. She was getting rather tired of it. 

Save for several leering looks, Sophia had not had any trouble from the crew, and some of the scruffy men had even approached her and introduced themselves in a somewhat shy manner. After several hours, however, they seemed to accept her as just another fixture of the ship and left her to her own devices. The captain, Sophia thought irritably, had tricked her into believing that the moment she stepped outside she would be raped just to keep her inside his cabin and out of trouble. She'd show him trouble.

Finally, after hours of nomadic wandering, Sophia stormed swiftly towards the captain, positioning herself so that she was standing in front of him so he had no choice but to see her. "At least give me something to _do_, Mr. Sparrow! I feel utterly useless just wandering about like a beheaded chicken!"

For once, Jack didn't correct her in the use of his name, but instead eyed her coolly with eyes the color of expressionless onyx. Silently and behind a face as stoic as rock, he admired the way a pink flush was spreading across her neck and cheeks. The neck of her – his – shirt was falling open to reveal a shoulder as white as alabaster. She righted it quickly and impatiently, awaiting his reply with those gray eyes flashing like lightening. "So, lass. You want somethin' t' do, eh? Alrigh', then."

Sophia balked slightly at the malicious glint in his eyes.

-

"I didn't mean this, you scoundrel!" Sophia shouted hysterically at Jack's retreating form, before warily eyeing the mop in her hands. Sighing dejectedly, she sloshed the end of it around in the bucket of disgusting slop-like water at her feet, before slapping it on the deck and scouring away. It was quite hard work, actually. The head of the mop grew increasingly heavy with each dip in the bucket and the layers of filth that had accumulated on the deck proved fairly difficult to remove. She was glad she had traded her bothersome gown for the less hindering outfit she now wore.

It was well past dark when Jack found her. She had abandoned the mop and now was on her knees scrubbing at a persistent spot of grime with a scrub brush someone had given her. A single lock of hair had fallen unnoticed from her cap, black and curling tightly down to her lower back. It shone slightly blue in the new moonlight and suddenly Jack had the uncontrollable urge to take it between his fingers and run his hand down its shining length. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"I see th' work 'as taken t' you, love." His eyes had once again regained their twinkling playfulness. Gone was the cold glare that she had received earlier. 

Sophia jumped as she heard his voice; she hadn't heard his footsteps as he approached her. Leaving the brush on the deck, she stood, her hands on her hips as she faced him. A light sheen of perspiration was apparent on her brow and she sported a smudge of black dirt on one cheek. "With no help from you, Captain, I'm sure. Am I finished?"  

"Aye, an' I'm willin' t' bet tha' you're hungry." Jack turned, parading off to his cabin while Sophia followed a short distance behind, brushing what filth and such she could from her clothes. 

When they returned again to the shadowy confines of the captain's cabin, Sophia discovered that a thick, glue-like stew had been laid out for them along with somewhat stale bread. Despite the unpleasant smells it was emitting, she fell upon the food like a starving woman. She looked up between bites to notice Jack quietly starting in on his own meal, retrieving a bottle of rum in the process. "Now that we have the time, Captain Sparrow, may I inquire as to where you are taking me?"

Jack didn't even look up. "Nassau Port, love. I'll drop you off an' you should be able t' barter a passage back t' Port Royal." 

Sophia remembered having read something about this captain and Nassau Port. She dropped her fork. "But you sacked Nassau Port! Yes, I remember, you sacked it without firing a single shot. Don't they utterly despise you?"

"Not as much as some o' th' other places." Jack noticed the confusion written plainly across her striking features. "I've done worse things than sack ports, love." Sophia's eyes widened as he shot her a slightly maniacal grin. She fell silent. 

Jack watched her as she resumed eating, before his eyes fell on her strange white cap. After several moments, he spoke. "Why d'you cover yer hair, lass?" 

Sophia froze mid-chew, her eyes staring steadily at the plate in front of her. "You ask as if it's your business." Her voice was quiet. Jack detected a hint of sorrow in her tone, and held up his hands, palms facing her, in a defensive gesture. Neither of them spoke for the remainder of their meal.

-

"Captain Sparrow. . .  you don't suppose I could take a bath?" 

Jack started, his arm jostling the table. It was the first words she'd said to him since he'd asked her about her hair. Glancing up at her, he saw that she wasn't looking at him, and instead concentrated wholly on the grainy floor. 

"Only if I can join ye, love." Jack flashed her a cocky and entirely too handsome grin for Sophia's liking. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest and glowered at him.

"No, Sparrow, I'm completely serious. I smell." Sophia stated, rubbing at the smudge on her cheek as if to prove her point. 

"Captain, love, captain." Jack corrected her distractedly, grasping her wrist with an agile hand and bringing her arm up to give it a whiff. Sophia could feel his scratchy mustache on the sensitive skin of the underside of her wrist. "Smell alrigh' t' me, but if you insist than jus' don' use too much water." He said, releasing her.    

However, instead of heading towards the sanctuary of the bathroom, Sophia remained where she stood, her hands clasped in front of her. "It is fresh water, it is not?"

It seemed to Sophia that Jack took forever to answer, and when he did, she thought she felt his dark eyes boring straight through her. "What d'you mean by tha', lass?" 

"I mean it's not from the sea. It's not salt water?" 

"O' course it's not! Wha' d'you take me for, a barbarian?" His eyes were twinkling playfully, but she just stared composedly back at him.

"Actually, yes."

Jack watched the feminine sway of her hips as she stalked stormily into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, before he crashed a balled fist onto the table with enough force to make the plates clatter. "Bloody woman."

-

The door didn't lock and the water was cold, but Sophia felt she was treating herself to a luxury anyway. The water felt silky against her skin as she submerged herself completely, her hair floating around her face like a cloud of darkness. 

She'd been reluctant to remove her cap with Jack in just the next room, but after running her fingers through several strands, concluded that it needed a good wash just as the rest of her did. So now she grasped a brown, slippery bar of homemade soap and gave herself a good lathering, hair and all. 

A good half hour later, she rose from the bath, shivering, and after replacing her hair in its customary bun beneath the cap, fingered the sleeve of Jack's shirt she'd taken. It had smelt of him when she'd first put it on, but now their scents had mixed into an unrecognizable aroma that Sophia found strangely pleasant. Nevertheless, she dropped it and the trousers into the soapy water and grimaced as it quickly turned brown due to the grime within the clothing. No wonder she had been so dirty. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in newly fresh smelling clothes, Jack glared at her. "Firs' you steal them, an' now you wash them. Honestly, woman, you're bloody insufferable."

"I wasn't doing you a favor, then?" She smirked at him, her voice sure and smooth. "You know, Sparrow, it would do you well to have a bath once in a while as well." 

Jack didn't reply, but instead pointed absently towards a pile of clothes on his desk, avoiding her gaze. "Those're for you, courtesy o' Anamaria."  

"Oh, lovely! I was getting rather tired of these disgusting rags." Ignoring Jack's glare, she motioned for him to turn his back. "If you would be so kind, Captain." Jack almost reluctantly turned around, staring intently at the wall behind his bed.

Sophia wondered faintly if when she'd turn around to face him he'd be gawking at her. She quickly banished the thought from her mind and focused on changing in the least time possible. All the while she mused miserably. 

This, Sophia Cuthburt, is what you've been reduced to. Changing your clothes in the presence of a man. No, even worse, a pirate! A disgusting, cocky pirate with no manners whatsoever. And working on a pirate ship! Lets hope we arrive at this Nassau Port quickly.

When she turned around she found Jack still staring earnestly at the wall. He had removed his shirt and boots once more, and as a result Sophia flushed and looked away, but not before she caught a flash of bronze skin and the firm strength that lay beneath it.

Hearing her turn around, Jack clambered beneath his sheets but, after many attempts, failed to fall asleep. The bathtub was still damp, so Sophia had no choice but to use the floor as sleeping accommodations. The sound of her shifting around on the floor in an effort to find a comfortable position echoed blatantly around the room. "'Ere, lass. Take the bed. I'm more used t' sleepin' on th' floor than you are." Jack said, sounding somewhat defeated.

Gratefully, Sophia thanked him and climbed into the now vacant bed. She could feel some of the heat that his body had left between the sheets, and the last thing she remembered was sensing that now familiar scent of rum and the sea. 

-

The next five days or so consisted of Sophia trying in every which way to get on Jack's nerves, and persistently insisted on being given tasks to perform. When she was given the task of peeling potatoes she somehow managed to let all of them escape out the porthole and into the churning seas below. When mending the extra sails she ripped one of them clear down the middle. While swabbing the decks again she dumped the entire bucket of water out and the decks were spongy for two days. Jack was getting quite fed up with her.

The crew, however, adored her, save for Anamaria who never adored anyone. She was their proper lady, and they loved her for it, going out of their way to make her comfortable. At dinner, her plate always had a small bit of something sweet to accompany the main course: an orange slice, bit of molasses or something of the like. They overlooked her shortcomings, which were becoming rather blatant due to her task of annoying Jack to the utmost extent, assuring to her that all crewmembers made mistakes sometimes as well. All of this disgusted Jack. His crew was going soft over something as minor as a new person on the ship.

"Are ye sure ye don' wan' me doin' tha', Miss Cuthbur'? I sure I could do it much faster, an' we wouldn' wan' ye fallin' into th' sea, now would we?" Sophia looked down from her perch among the riggings into the kind face of Thandor, a young cabin boy. She could feel a salty spray against her cheeks and for the first time in many years, wished her hair was loose and around her shoulders so the wind could sift carefully through the locks. She quickly banished the idea, and climbed still higher, reveling in the freedom of her limbs now that she didn't have cumbersome skirts to manage. 

"Nonsense, Thandor! Don't be ridiculous. I'll manage perfectly up here by myself." She shouted down at him, shooting him a warm smile.

Jack watched the woman climb about the riggings as if she was born for it, and despite his growing aggravation with her felt a spark of admiration. She'd taken to the life of a pirate quickly, and, amazingly, seemed almost happier now than she was when she first boarded the Pearl. 

He knew she was egging him on with her silly mistakes. She was not dimwitted enough to cause them without having a purpose behind it. And yet, when she would laugh, whether over something he said at dinner or the antics of the crew, he would forget that he had ever been angry at her. She was laughing much more nowadays.

Jack returned his attention to their path of travel only to see a massive wave headed directly for the bow of the ship. Cursing himself for his mistake, he threw the wheel to the port side, hoping the sudden change would help them avoid at least the worst of the breaker. He braced himself for the immense heave they were sure to feel in a matter of seconds, spreading his legs wide and gripping firmly on the wheel. "Brace yerselves, mates!" He bellowed.

Many of the men in the crow's nest and riggings were nearly thrown from their positions, some holding on with one hand. Jack nearly lost his footing with the force of the swell. Sophia had not heard Jack's warning, and Jack heard Thandor's shout and whirled about only to see a flash of the woman before she collided roughly with the roiling ocean. 

"Oh bloody 'ell!"  Jack was running before he even had a chance to think, taking off his jacket as he went, intending to dive in after her, but he was too late. Thandor had already jumped off the railing when Jack reached his destination, and all he could do was search the surface of the water with an anxious gaze, the beads and trinkets in his hair brushing against the side of his face as he looked.

This is the end, then. Sophia thought calmly as she sank further beneath the ocean, struggling fitfully against the current. And then the pain started. She released a silent, watery scream, before an arm grasped her around the waist, propelling them towards the surface. 

Jack threw a rope down to the young lad with Sophia in tow, and, with the help of the other crew, hoisted the pair onto the deck. Thandor lay, gasping and spitting, before Jack offered him a hand and helping him to his feet, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, lad." He praised quietly.

The remainder of the crew had gathered around Sophia, blocking her from view. One of the scruffier looking men peered closely at her. "She be makin' funny sounds when she breathes, Cap'n. I think we should give 'er mouth t' mouth, jus' in case." He said, a little to eagerly for Jack's liking. The captain strode quickly towards them, shoving the men aside with a wave of his hand. 

"Ye will do no such thing, men." He replied quickly. "Go an' finish your duties. The lass 'ere will be jus' fine." But now, as he looked upon the sobbing girl on the deck with her arms crossed tightly over her middle and curled up into a rigid ball, he wasn't sure. Reluctantly, the crew dispersed. 

Eyeing Sophia quietly, he knelt down to her level, lifting her chin so that he could glance briefly over her features. Her face was etched with immense hurt, tears flowing freely down her already damp face. Jack's eyes widened and he drew back slightly at the emotion in her own eyes. They were nearly black with pain. "Jesus. . .  Sophia? Wha's wrong?"

She hissed faintly through her teeth as another wave of pain shot through her belly. "Jack. . .  Please. . ." Her voice was rough and nearly silent. Jack scooped her up in his arms and, surprised at how light she was and how she seemed to collapse frailly against his chest, almost sprinted towards his cabin. He laid her gently onto this bed, his ring-clad hands hovering over her like frightened birds.

"Where does it 'urt, love?" She didn't answer him, instead squeezing her eyes shut and turning her face towards the wall, her breathing hitched and irregular. Jack saw that her arms were still grasping her torso firmly, and, carefully easing them away, grasped the hem of her shirt, intending to lift the fabric up to reveal whatever mortal wound he was sure lay beneath. Before he could move, Sophia sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and clear. 

"Jack, no! Stop!" She placed her hands on his chest, pushing him weakly away. "Get out! Leave me alone, please!"  Jack withdrew, shock evident on his features as he stood, staring at her incredulously.

"But your 'urt! You need someone t'-"

"No, I'm not! I'll be fine! I just need a moment. Get out, Jack!" She rose from the bed, her knees very nearly giving out on her as she gasped painfully, before pushing him frantically towards the door, finally succeeding in getting him out and locking herself into his cabin. Her legs finally failed her and she fell in a lump of sodden clothes onto the floor, whimpering. 

Jack heard the thump of her falling and began pounding desperately against the door forcefully enough to make the hinges rattle. "Wha' the bloody 'ell d'you think you're doin', Sophia! Let me in, ye loony!" The crew had collected around their captain by that time, each one hollering their persuasions. 

"C'mon, Miss Cuthbur'!"

"Let 'im in, lass!" 

"We don' want ye t' die!" 

After five minutes or so of this, the door finally swung open to reveal a completely whole, smiling Sophia. Jack and the other men stared at her, mouths agape. "Thank you very much, gentlemen, but I'm quite alright." She cast her eyes around the group, assuring them with her eyes that she truly would be fine. She found Jack's gaze, holding it for a moment. She thought she saw suspicion within their dark depths. 

The crew was seemingly satisfied with her reassurances, and returned to their previous activities, but the captain remained where he was standing, staring at her. "I don' believe you." Before Sophia could reply, Jack had one arm clasped tightly around her waist, his free hand grasping her blouse and lifting it up to display most of her torso. Sophia clapped her hands on her, thankfully, still covered breasts to prevent the shirt from ripping off completely.

Nothing. Jack's eyes searched the expanse of pale skin before him. There was nothing, it was perfect. He raised a single finger to trace the skin where a wound should have been. "Wha' happened?"

Ignoring the small shiver that assaulted her spine as he touched her, she glared ferociously at him, bringing her right knee up to meet the tender place she knew every man possessed. Jack dropped her immediately, hands lowering to grab his crotch as he grimaced and his breath whooshed out, letting out a string of profanity that caused Sophia to blanch briefly.

She quickly regained her voice. "If you ever touch me again, Sparrow, I will slit your throat with your own sword while you sleep." Her tone was quiet and deadly, but Jack looked as if he hadn't even registered her words. He was bent in two, groaning like a dying cow. 

Sophia turned and marched towards the door, but before she could open it, Jack's hoarse voice met her ears. "Lovely waist, darling."

She spun around, her eyes shooting daggers at the captain, to find him grinning a strained grin at her. She stared him down for several more moments until he began to look slightly uncomfortable imagining what fate was to become of him, before flying out the door into the bright sunlight, grumbling.

Jack watched her through his haze of pain, noticing her fingertips tremble momentarily against the doorknob.

-

A/N: Mwahaha! And so the plot thickens. I hope you guys liked this chapter, because it was great fun to write! Next chapter there's our lovely lovely drunk Jack, Nassau Port, and a little surprise (haha) to look forward to. 

You know what I love almost more than drunk Jack? Reviews. Lots of them. Please? –Puppy dog eyes-

Oh, and I probably won't be adding another chapter until next weekend because this week is finals. I have soooo much to do! Sorry! I promise I'll make the next chapter really really long to make up for it!


	5. Secrets and Revelations

Chapter: Secrets and Revelations

-

The morning after her assault to Jack's nether regions, Sophia's uninhibited and gleeful amusement at watching the pirate captain limp about his ship and glaring at whoever may have glanced his way soon dissipated as she found herself leaning heavily on the railing of the Pearl, disgorging much of the food she'd eaten in the past several days into the churning sea below.      

She'd been very lucky with seasickness thus far, but in the night they had encountered somewhat rougher conditions than she was used to experiencing, and she'd found herself stumbling on the rocking decks of the ship and grimacing at the queasiness that lurked in her stomach. Jack and the rest of the crew, however, seemed perfectly content in the roiling conditions, much to her despair. 

And so, at about noontime, her stomach had had enough. She'd barely made it to the side of the ship in time. 

As of now, Jack found himself swaying, albeit painfully, over to the retching woman, leaning his back against the railing that she clung to, brows furrowed and hands gesturing as he observed her. "Careful with me ship, love. Wouldn' want it t' be gettin' soiled, now would we?" 

Sophia glanced at him from her bent position through veiled eyes, only to find him grinning soundly at her, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and forcing herself to stand upright. "There is no need to gloat, Captain Sparrow. I know that you find my suffering thoroughly amusing. Now, if you please, leave me to my own discomfort." Even in her state of distress, Sophia still held enough conviction to add a degree of spite to her words. Jack just grinned wider.

"Captain Jack Sparrow does not gloat, love. An' I don' enjoy yer sufferin' any more than you enjoy mine, which, judgin' by this morning, 's quite a lot." Sophia scowled at him as she realized that he had been completely aware of her quiet smirks and giggles throughout that day, and, gauging her look of malice, Jack's grin disappeared.

As she ducked once more to heave dryly over the side of the ship, Jack reached out, giving her an odd sort of pat on the shoulder. "Don' worry, lass. The sickness'll soon pass. I would offer you some rum t' ease th' pitchin' in your belly, but you've already made your point clear on your opinion o' the stuff." With that, he shot her a roguish smirk and turned to swagger off to the bow of the ship. 

-

"Gentlemen. . . " Jack paused for a moment, motioned with the black depths of his eyes towards where Sophia and Anamaria stood. Sophia had regained some of her natural flush, her stomach having finally calmed after expelling all of its contents overboard at last. ". . .and ladies. We will reach Nassau Port within th' next day, an' that, I believe, calls for a celebration. After all, this 's the last night tha' our Miss Cuthburt will be spendin' in our fine company, an' she deserves a proper send off. What say you?" A chorus of ayes and affirmative grunts answered Jack's question, and he held up a silent hand to quiet them. "Alrigh' then. Double rations o' good rum an' food tonight for all ye scallywags!"

This statement was met with a raucous cheer from the crew, who quickly disappeared to the dining hall below deck. Sophia had no desire to join in their soon to be heard drunken laughter.

-

_It really is a beautiful ship_, Sophia found herself thinking as she leaned against the prow of the ship, keeping the womanly figurehead that was carved there company. She raised her face to the heavens, absorbing the sight and feel of the vessel the glided so smoothly (well, smoothly now that the winds had passed) across the surface of the ocean. 

The ship's masts, all three of them, towered high and stalwart over the deck, and Sophia could just barely make out the crow's nest that resided at their utmost peaks. She found herself somewhat frightened of their majestic characteristic, and marveled at the manner in which they seemed to disappear into the starlit heavens. Jack no longer permitted his ship to sport the infamous black sails that even she had heard of from the gossip of the Port Royal townspeople, but instead white, surprisingly clean sails strained against the ropes and hooks that held them in place. The wood panels of the deck and hull of the ship were a dark brown, almost black, and Sophia was sure that the ship had been named as it was for this quality. 

It was well into the night now, and Sophia could still hear the inebriated voices that seeped from below decks. "Proper send off indeed. . . " Sophia mused quietly to herself. 

-

". . .an' then they made me their chief." 

The crew, of course, had heard Jack's rendition of this story hundreds of times, but somehow failed to remember this through their liquor-induced haze. Jack, however, after consuming a. . . _ modest_ amount of rum and reciting several of his famous tales, found himself feeling uncharacteristically woozy. Jack Sparrow never felt woozy. Tipsy, yes, but not woozy.

"'scuse me, mates. Breath o' fresh air'd do me good righ' about now." Ignoring the faint protests of his companions, Jack stumbled from his chair and out into the considerably cleaner outside air. "Bloody pirates. Stinkin' up the room with their drinkin' an' smokin'. 'S 'nough t' make a man loose 'is supper." 

Jack didn't notice Sophia as she watched him, shaking with suppressed laughter. "Rather drunk, are we, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack spun around abruptly with such a cat-like grace, even in his state, that Sophia was amazed at this man's ability to move in the way he did. So _fluidly_. She could see him trying to focus his eyes on the source of the voice that spoke to him so tauntingly. 

"Not drunk. Def'nately not drunk." Jack tripped over a step as he made his way to where she stood and stumbled so violently that Sophia went to help him, grasping his arm and guiding him to the railing, to which he hung on rather pathetically. He flashed her a somewhat dashing grin. _He can even manage to flirt a bit in his state! Bloody stupid man, _She thought, ignoring his expression and turning to face the vast expanse of the sea.

"You _are_ drunk, Captain. How many bottles of rum did you drink?" She could smell the cursed liquor on his breath.

"Lessee. . .  five? Six? Ten?" Jack furrowed his brow, searching through the fuzzy caverns of his mind. Nothing. "Can't remember. Def'nately not drunk. . ." He trailed off, swaying against his hold on the railing. 

Sophia remained momentarily silent, inhaling deeply as she tilted her face once more to the black sky. "Mmm. . .  the stars are beautiful tonight." She hadn't meant to utter those words aloud, and, in response to her uncharacteristic remark, Jack snapped his head back and squinted at her so that all she could see within his eyes was the darkness of his iris.

"Stars? Don' see any stars. Bloody bright spots. Never did anyone any good." He slurred, and Sophia glanced sideways at him, a faint smile flickering at her lips. 

"I would suspect that the haze of drink has affected your eyes as well, Captain. The stars are everywhere tonight." 

"Y'see, tha's the problem with women." He remarked, pointing an index finger at her face and staggering slightly with the movement of the ship. "Don' 'ave any 'preciation for rum! Doin' all sorts o' things t' it. . . throwin' it 'way, spittin' it out, burnin' it. . .  I knew a lass once, bloody wench. Burned all th' rum on me very own island! I was gov'ner o' tha' island, y'know. Bloody lot o' good it did me. . . " Jack continued on, the usual movements of his hands becoming increasingly pronounced as he rambled on. He glanced at her, his words halting their previous fluent procession. She looked so pretty, standing there with the glow of the stars reflecting off her skin. Maybe if he just . . . 

Sophia had not been paying attention to his incessant babbling, but was soon wrenched from her state of unawareness by an arm that snaked cunningly about the slender width of her waist and a hand that came to rest against the softness of her belly. Jack's now somewhat gravelly voice whispered dangerously close to her ear, and she shivered as his rum-soaked breath brushed across her throat. "O' course, I could think o' much better ways t' occupy your time than jus' sittin' 'ere stargazing, love." 

Sophia stiffened. She had been fearing this. It hurt. She didn't want it. . .  not again. Not after she had succeeded in hiding all this time, making herself inconspicuous. She wanted to be ignored.

She resisted the urge to cry out as he turned her towards him, using his arm at her waist to guide her movements. Even in his alcohol-saturated condition, Jack still started internally at the expression on her face. Her eyes were as wide as those bloody Aztec medallions. _Scared, is she? We'll soon take care of that. _

Sophia pressed her hands firmly against his chest as he slid both hands down the coarse fabric of her shirt to cup the curve of her buttocks, lifting her hips to collide firmly against his. She could feel the lean muscles beneath her fingers as she pushed away from him. He was too strong. She was trapped. "Don't. . ." Her voice came out as a near-breathless whisper, although she had meant to scream.

Jack smirked. "Don't, you say? Come now, love. Pretty lass like you can't enjoy a bit o' fun?" His tone was teasing her. . .  threatening her. She couldn't bear the sight of his eyes boring so intently into her own, and turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as a faint whimper sounded from her throat. Jack took this opportunity to bury his face against the point at which her neck met her shoulders, nuzzling the curve there that was flaunted to him so openly. She was soft. 

Sophia had never had the experience of being paralyzed, but she assumed it was somewhat similar to the state of her limbs now. White fear coursed through her body like lightening, rendering her motionless. He was everywhere. She couldn't take it. Oh god. . .

A small voice crept forward from the back of her mind. _If you can't, don't. Do something about it, Sophia._

Something was pulling rather painfully at Jack's hair. _She_ was pulling at his hair. That woman, Sophia. He dropped her, cursing as her beat at his chest with her fists and stumbling backwards. He would have fallen against the hard wood of the deck if he hadn't grabbed hold of a rope that dangled conveniently from the masts.

Sophia stood there, chest heaving. She could move again. The fear was leaving. "Sparrow, do you remember what I told you? About slitting your throat with your own sword if you touched me again?" She whispered, and knew immediately that she hadn't needed to shout it instead. Her voice held enough malice to fill a thousand shouts. 

Jack stared at her. Never, _ever_, had he been so candidly rejected. _Never_. His inebriated brain failed to process this. Why wasn't she still in his arms? She'd been so nice in his arms. 

"However," She continued almost hesitantly. "I will excuse this incident because of your drunkenness. Obviously, you are too intoxicated to think clearly, for if you had been you would have predicted that you would be dead by morning. I would have no difficulty killing a rapist, Sparrow. And it is plainly visible from the events tonight that that is what you are." 

With the affect of her words still bouncing around in Jack's brain, she turned and began walking somewhat shakily towards his cabin. "I would suggest that you refrain from returning to your cabin tonight, Captain. I might change my mind. Good night." Her voice was cold.

Her shoulders sagged as she closed the door to Jack's cabin and made her way to the bed. She lay down upon it slowly, curling into a tiny ball at its foot. Her entire body was shaking. It took her several hours before she drifted to sleep.  

-

Jack finally gave up his attempts to remain standing, and sank to the deck of the ship with a sigh. His head was starting to hurt. The rum was wearing off.

_Damn tha' bloody woman all th' way down t' Davy Jones' Locker!  _

She had been scared, Jack was sure of that. It had taken her too long to react. She'd allowed his advances, however unwilling she may have been, for several moments before pushing him away. It didn't fit. 

Nothing seemed to fit with her. First the ordeal of falling overboard and suffering a pain so intense that it had startled even Jack, who had experienced men having their limbs shot off with cannons. She then, after some minutes, was perfectly fine. And now this. She had been so stiff within his grasp. Frozen was the word that came to mind. He would probably be able to think of better ones in the morning.

He was rapidly becoming too tired to think, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Sleep would be nice.

- 

Sophia stirred in her slumber, her scalp on fire. She hated when that happened. She must have pulled her hair back too tightly in the morning. She sat up, fingers delving within the straining tendrils. She'd have to let it down for a bit. 

She was reluctant to do so, for it meant that she would have to risk someone barging in on her, but she would rather risk that than spend the entire night suffering this. With a sigh, she loosened her cap and let it fall back to the bed, wincing as she undid the tight bun at the crown of her head. Her hair fell loose across her shoulders.

She ran hooked fingers through its length, exhaling in relief. 

-

Anamaria watched the sleeping captain on the deck. He had passed out again. She strode to where he lay, poking his side with her boot once, then again more sharply. "Captain Sparrow! Wake up, ye stupid sod."

His head was going to explode. Jack opened one eye, expecting to have to close it abruptly once more due to the sunlight, but instead found himself still encased in blessed darkness. It was still night. "Up. . . I'm up. Stop pesterin' me, wench." He rose, grimacing as his legs creaked beneath him. "Need more rum. . . stop this bloody 'eadache."

He successfully ignored Anamaria's scolding as began walking towards his cabin, forgetting Sophia's threat for the time being.

-

Sophia froze as she heard the doorknob turn. _No. . . _

Jack entered his cabin, grinning faintly as his eyes focused on the rum on his desk. "Ah. . . sweet Mary an' Joseph." He turned around as he uncorked the bottle, finally catching sight of Sophia. He stopped moving, very nearly dropping his rum.

_So much hair. _It hung to her waist, thick and full and black. Curling. It made her seem smaller, and for perhaps the first time Jack realized how truly delicate she was. Like a black orchid. He'd never seen hair so black before, not even in Singapore, where almost every head was black. But not like this. Not this black. He wanted to heft the entire length of it within his arms and watch it fall back against her shoulders. He wanted to feel its softness.

There was the paralysis again. Sophia's feet were planted firmly to the floor, her eyes wide. He took a step towards her, lips parting as if words were struggling to escape. She cowered away from him.

"Don't touch me. Stop touching me!" Her voice came out high and panicked, and Jack froze. 

"I'm not – " He began.

"Stop. Go away." She backed herself into a corner, starting as the wood connected harshly with her back. She slid down to the floor, facing the wall. Jack heard her emit a soft sound, and, as if that destruction of the previous silence snapped her sanity into a thousand miniscule pieces, her eyes glazed over, memories and nightmares flooding into her mind. Their presence cast a foreboding air about the room. 

-

She backs herself into a corner. There's no escaping now. He grasps a handful of her hair, bringing it to his nose. She whimpers.

_"You don't know what this does to me, darling. How you tempt me. Your hair. . ." His voice is strained. She closes her eyes._

_"Don't touch me. Stop touching me!" She struggles fitfully, wriggling as his arm snakes around her waist, pressing her flush against him. She opens her mouth to scream, and instead a pair of limp lips crash down upon her own._

_"Oh yes. Scream, lovely. No one will hear you, and then I will own you. I will take you. You and your hair." He murmurs this against her lips, sifting his fingers through the length of her locks. She turns away from his vile mouth._

_"My father will kill you." He sneers._

_"Your father cares for nothing but the sea, pet." He loses patience with her, forcing her against the wall and lifting her skirts. She nearly retches as his hands slide up her bare thighs, the filth on his fingers marring the pale skin._

_"Stop. Go away." She sounds like a scared child to her ears. He laughs._

_And then he owns her. Takes her. And now she finally screams._

-

Jack had no idea whatsoever on how to cope with this. With this woman. She didn't seem to notice anymore that he was there, and instead gazed into eternal nothingness, tears streaming in endless procession down her cheeks. 

He almost didn't speak, but, glancing down at her wringing hands, he resolved to break her out of this strange trance. "Sophia. . ." The word felt strange on his tongue. 

Her name is what saved her from the memory. The man had never said her name. She jerked, her eyes refocusing on the confused captain. She straightened, no longer using the wall as a support, her movements slow. Jack watched her with his brow furrowed, headache forgotten. 

Sophia glanced at the ground. She'd done it again, let her memories take over. She hadn't let it happen for several years. Then again, no one had seen her hair in several years either. Jack was looking at her as if she were a skeletal pirate. "I think you'd better tell me wha's goin' on, lass." Her hair was distracting him, and he had to struggle to keep his gaze on her face. 

"I'm alright. I'm sorry if I gave you a fright, Captain." Her voice was shaken, and she subconsciously raised a hand to her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders so that its entire length was hidden from view.     

"You gave _me _a fright? 'S more like I gave _you_ a fright, love. What was. . ." He waved his hand vaguely in her direction. ". . .that?"

Sophia sighed, and suddenly Jack noticed that she looked very tired as she swayed slightly on her feet. She sat down on the bed. 

There was no use in hiding it from him. He'd just seen her at her worst. What else did she have to be ashamed of? "When I was about fifteen I was. . ." She swallowed. ". . .taken advantage of by a friend of my fathers. Well, he's not a friend anymore, but it's all the same." She hesitated briefly, her hands folded in her lap.

Jack offered no help, no suggestion on how to finish, but instead sat down beside, silent. What was he to say to a woman who had been traumatized so? _Raped. She 'ad been raped, Jack. _He reminded himself.

 The perpetual adolescent in his brain pointed out to him that they were both on his bed, and she needed comforting, but Jack pushed him away. He didn't know how to comfort anyone, anyway, and it was for this reason that he felt acutely uncomfortable, even though her voice was clear and sure when she continued.

"The reason I hide my hair it that he was. . . well, for lack of a better word, obsessed with it. I was young, and I guess the idea that if I never let anyone in. . . never let anyone _see_ me, then I'd be safe. I know it's completely irrational. . ."

Jack had never seen her like this. She was completely stripped of her outer shell. He was finding it hard to deal with the emotion that was radiating from her, and shifted awkwardly before speaking.

"'S not stupid, love, jus' ignorant. Tha' was one man. _One_. Not everyone's like 'im." His voice was too casual. 

Sophia turned her face towards him, contemplating his words, one lock of ebony fell in front of her eyes. She batted it away, noticing the captain's gaze follow her hand as it smoothed her hair. She suddenly remembered the scent of alcohol on his breath, the way he had pulled her roughly towards her, his body beneath her hands as she pushed him away. . . 

Her strange mood faltered, and Jack could almost see the icy wall build itself around her once more. She turned from him, quickly and with a practiced hand replacing her hair in it's customary bun, and placing her white cap over it.

"Goodnight, Captain Sparrow. If you would be so kind, please leave me be."

With a noncommittal sound of understanding, Jack turned and swaggered from the room.

-

Jack approached her next morning as she was chopping lemons in the galley. She had one slice held firmly in her teeth, sucking the sour juice from the flesh of the fruit. Anamaria had told her that sailors sometimes ate lemons to ensure that they remain free of scurvy, and Sophia had no intension of acquiring the disease.

"You look like you've got a yellow smile, love." Jack said, chuckling as he stood abreast of her. 

Sophia jumped at the low tone of his voice. She had avoided being alone with the captain all morning, and he knew it. She spit out the lemon before she spoke. "Well, when all you lot have scurvy I'll be healthy and, not to mention, laughing at you."

Jack placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Ah, _mon doux_, your icy demeanor further breaks me aching 'eart."

Sophia sighed, slamming the knife that had previously been in her hand on the table, glaring at him, her mouth set in a firm line. "Stop this bloody nonsense, Sparrow. What is it you want with me?"   

He let his hand slide down to rest at his side once more. "We'll make berth at Nassau in an hour. You," He pointed rudely at her. "'ave some preparin' t' do."

She followed him out into the Caribbean sunshine as he left the room. "What do you mean, preparing? I look just like a pirate and we are going to a pirate town. What do I need to change?"

"Firs', love, Nassau Port 's not a pirate town. O' course, there's a part o' it tha' not many nobles dare to venture, but th' majority o' the people there are of 'higher class', as it were. Second, d'you think tha' any ship goin' to Port Royal would let someone looking as you do now onto their ship?" He grinned at her look of defeat. "No, I didn't think so."

She continued to follow him as he made his way to his cabin, although she hesitated outside the door. She wouldn't enjoy being in this room with only him for company again. "Very well, Captain. But what sort of 'preparing' do you have in mind?"

Jack didn't answer, but dragged a heavy chest from its resting spot in the corner. It sported a thin layer of dust. She waited impatiently for his answer, but he didn't give it, instead offering her a self-satisfied grin and a piece of, as far as she was concerned, useless advice. 

"Th' sooner you learn t' trust ol' Jack, love, the longer you'll stay alive. Savvy?"  

-

The dress was beautiful. It was navy blue, a color she was not accustomed to wearing, and the style was strange and alluring. The neck was wide, and she had the impression that it would drape unseemly from her shoulders, exposing more than she would feel comfortable with. Glancing at the waist of the garment, she deducted that she would not need a corset, thank god, but that it would be tight nevertheless. The skirts flared from the waist in a fashion full of movement, unlike the stiffly starched skirts she usually wore. She guessed that the bottom of the dress would drag on the ground. It had been made for someone several inches taller than she. As Jack held the dress out for her to take, she hesitated, her hands hovering over the fabric. "Where did you get this?"

"Haven't you 'eard that pirates loot, love? 'S what we do, steal." He grinned at her over the top of the dress, pushing the garment towards her. "Come on, lass. We 'aven't got all day. I'm sure you'll look lovely in this." His tone turned somewhat flirtatious, and she grimaced and cast him an indignant glance, before grasping the softness of the fabric and carrying the dress into the bathroom.

The dress was very difficult to get on with just one pair of hands, but she managed to blindly lace up the back as loosely as it would allow, sucking in her breath as she did so. She was by all means no whale, so the dress's previous owner must have been nothing but a stick. Sophia winced as she remembered that this dress _had_ had a previous owner. She pushed the thought from her mind stubbornly. _It's just what Sparrow would want me to think. He _wants_ me to be unsettled._

She finally finished lacing up the dress herself, having absolutely refused to ask Jack to help her after the corset incident. She slipped on a pair of heeled shoes that the captain had also provided. They were too big, but she was thankful that she wouldn't have to tromp about Nassau Port in clunky boots beneath his delicate dress.

And her hair. Jack's words had been echoing in her ears ever since he'd said them the night before. _Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im._

She sank to the floor, skirts billowing about her legs like a dark storm cloud, fingering the edge of her cap. She was tired of hiding.

-

Sophia heard Jack choke on his rum as she emerged from the bathroom. It was a strangled, abrupt sound, and she whirled around to face him, startled. "What? What happened?" Her voice raised several notes in her concern.

Jack straightened from his previous bent position, his face reddened under the bronze tone of his skin. He cast his gaze over her again, before crossing his arms across the breadth of his chest, his head turned to the opposite wall. He was avoiding looking at her. She frowned.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and, after several moments, began to speak once more, clearing his throat as he did so. His tone was gruff. "Wha' did you do, woman?" 

Sophia shrank away from him, insulted. She hadn't thought she looked _that _horrendous. "What are you implying, Captain?" By this time, her hands were planted on the swell of her hips.

He took another swig of rum, still staring at the wall. "Nothing. You jus' look different." 

"Well of course I look different, you dimwitted bastard. You're just used to seeing me dressed like a bloody scallywag." She surprised herself with her own language. His reaction _infuriated _her.

Jack held up his hands defensively, seeming to have regained some of his composure. She'd nearly undone him when she glided into the room, for that's what she had done, glided. He hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected _her_. 

The first thing he had noticed was her hair. She'd abandoned her cap, and the black mass atop her crown had been fixed into a twist of sorts, with several wisps curling against her cheeks. The dress did, as she had guessed, expose the line of her neck and most of her shoulders, and, before remembering that this woman was, in fact, Sophia, he had allowed his eyes to wander down the slender curvature of her body within the navy folds of fabric. The garment fit her snugly from the waist up, and he found himself wondering how she could possibly be comfortable with her bosom pushed upwards as it was. He'd let his eyes linger there as well, subconsciously comparing her skin to porcelain against the darkness of the dress. The skirts flared smoothly from her hips to form a graceful slope to the ground. 

He now stared avidly at the wood boards of the wall. He didn't trust himself to even glance at her, lest he burst out laughing at the abrupt transformation in her appearance or do something much more drastic, for the option of taking her right then and there on the bed with those blue skirts up over her head was becoming rather apparent to him. He cleared his throat again.

Sophia narrowed her eyes. His silence was making her uncomfortable, and she finally let out an exasperated groan, turning swiftly in a flurry of skirts towards the door. "Honestly, if you're just going to stare all day, I suppose I'll have to notify someone that a replacement captain will be needed." She slammed the door behind her.

After several moments of motionless bewilderment, Jack drained the last of his rum and swaggered, having regained his composure in his brief solitude, onto the deck of the Pearl. 

The lights of Nassau gleamed brightly, casting an eerie tone to the brief span of ocean that lay between the ship and the docks. Jack could hear the din of drunken song, merriment, and brawls. He grinned. This was his territory.

-

"So, what d'you think?"

Sophia glanced up from her task of slogging through the slop that encompassed Nassau Port's roads. She hadn't been paying much attention to Jack, who had been rambling on about "sad souls" and "sweet piliferous bouquets," but now frowned, barely dodging from the path of a stumbling, intoxicated man clumsily chasing a woman, who, judging by her attire, was a woman of ill repute. She jerked her elbow from Jack's hand, which he had most obligingly placed there to keep her from falling face down into the mud. He just grinned at her, his hands swaying about in mid air. Sophia had the notion that his movements were flirtatious, although by any other man's standards she would have thought he'd gone completely, hog-swaddling mad. 

After his brief bout of strange behavior in his cabin, Jack had regained his cheeky personality, much to Sophia's dismay. She had rather enjoyed the quiet side of Jack Sparrow. Finally considering his question, she paused, before catching his eye and replying with a somewhat skeptical air. "I think it is the most disgusting town I have ever laid eyes upon."

Jack threw his hands up in the air, grumbling, and turned his back on her to continue in a parading fashion down the street. Grudgingly, Sophia admired the manner in which the captain maneuvered easily through the havoc that was Nassau Port, while she struggled behind him, shuddering at the leering stares that were occasionally cast her way. She unconsciously raised a hand to her hair, nearly whimpering as she was reminded that it lacked its usual covering. Her fingers trembled. _Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im. _She hoped Jack was right.

Nassau was nestled amongst a rather steep rock ledge that rose straight from the breaking waves of the ocean, so one could simply look upwards from the dock and view the entire layout of the town, and that was just what Sophia had done. She immediately noticed that the shabby, pirate-y part of the town rested close to the docks, bustling with obviously inappropriate nightlife. The average, middle-class homes lay just above, and then came the mansions of the "higher class," as Jack had put it. It was a very strange town.

Sophia was snapped unceremoniously from her state of reverie as a resounding slap echoed through the streets. Sophia's eyes immediately searched out her companion in travel.

A beautiful Asian woman was glaring at Jack as he grimaced, rubbing his offended jaw, shouting at him in what Sophia thought she identified as Chinese. As Sophia appeared at Jack's side, the woman stopped shouting mid word, staring at her, before shrieking hysterically and slapping Jack again. 

Sophia smirked, placing her hands on her hips and casting a cool glance at the captain, her hair insecurities forgotten for the moment. "Whatever it is you did, Captain, I'm positive you deserved both of those."

Jack muttered incoherently, turning back towards the flustered woman and placing both hands on her shoulders, staring earnestly, or as earnestly as Jack Sparrow could, into her eyes. "Calm, down, love. Tha's jus' Soph – er. . . Miss Cuthburt." Jack caught sight of Sophia glaring at him as he nearly faltered with her formal title. "I'm jus' 'elping 'er get home, savvy?" He allowed his voice to drop several notches so as to empower it with a sort of deep mystique, and flashed the struggling woman whose shoulders he held a faint smile. At that moment, Sophia did not doubt that the captain encompassed an air of charisma that she was sure many women fell head over heels for. She, on the other hand, knew that at least this time, it was merely a well-practiced act. 

Sophia had to stifle a disgusted groan as the woman virtually melted into Jack's arms. He gave her a reassuring grin. "There now, love. Can't stay mad at ol' Jack for too long, can ye?" The previously fuming woman now shook her head with star-struck adoration clearly portrayed in her eyes. Sophia widened her own eyes and turned abruptly from the couple as Jack received a zealous kiss from his companion in forgiveness._ Honestly, dear. Have some scruples. _Sophia found herself mentally chiding the woman.

Several minutes later, Jack tapped her on the bare skin of her shoulder. She jumped, whirling about in wide-eyed surprise. Jack now sported a faint flush beneath the bronze surface of his skin and a garish smear of red paint across his lips. He backed away slightly at her reaction to the brief touch. "Easy, lass. Jumpy, are we?"

_Of course I'm jumpy!_ She raised a hand to the twist of hair at her crown. She hadn't felt this exposed since she was a child. Ignoring his question, she inhaled deeply, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for several moments before snapping once more to awareness, the iciness of her personality once more resurfacing. She motioned briefly towards her own lips, her tone mocking as she spoke. "You have paint on your lips, Captain. . ." 

Jack narrowed his eyes and swiftly raised a hand to wipe the paint off on his forearm. "How very nice of you t' point tha' out, love." He mimicked her voice, before grasping her forearm, grumbling about "burdensome woman" as he did so, and dragging her into a shabby-looking pub.

"What are you doing, Sparrow! We are supposed to be getting _me_ a passage home! I don't see how this. . .  this _bloody brothel_ disguised as a pub is going to help in that quest!" 

Jack sighed, spinning on his heel to face the disagreeable woman. After the encounter with that conniving Jai Li all he wanted was a drink. His temper was already running high, and she was not helping one bit. "Would you bloody _shut up_ for a moment, woman! One, all th' good navy men tha' I'm sure will be very eager t' give you a ride on their lovely ships, so long as ye keep tha' dress on. . ." He casts his eyes down the length of her body in a slow and deliberate manner as if to prove his point. Sophia flushed faintly ". . .will still be out for many 'ours t' come. Two, one rum's not goin' t' keep me long enough t' prevent you from gettin' home, savvy? So, if you'd close yer mouth for once, I'd be much obliged."

Sophia shrank away from the volume of his voice, which was already attracting the curious attention of numerous occupants of the building. She glanced about nervously, noting with tension the men who's eyes lingered in places they shouldn't along her body. It was the dress. The bloody dress. And her hair. _Damn. _Jack thankfully jarred her from her thoughts with a jerk in the direction of the bar.

And so she sat, quiet, as Jack drank his rum and talked with his plentiful acquaintances. She would get him for this. She wanted to go _home_. 

-

Oh my god! I'm so sorry that took so long. My life has been kind of hectic lately. I promise I will update again within a couple of days!  

My poor Sophia. . . She really is a bit of a basket case. Anyway, thanks to all of you who reviewed and being so patient with my lack of updatingness. I need input on the story! How do you like it so far? Any suggestions for plot, characters, etc? My brain is kind of fried for new ideas.

I hope everyone enjoys this. It's nice a loooong.     


	6. A Not So Fond Farewell

Chapter: A Not So Fond Farewell

-

The pub was loud and the whore who'd perched herself on Jack's lap was distracting him. His palm slid down the length of her waist to rest at her left hip, and she bent forward to rest her cheek against the line of his jaw and flicked the tip of her tongue against his ear. He could hear her breathing, and quietly he asked her her name, which turned out to be Vera. He forced himself to focus on his rum and the various other occupants of the table he sat at. 

A woman named Mercedes whose Spanish name corresponded to her dark appearance placed her elbows on the splintering surface of the table and leaned against it, conveniently exposing the dark shadow between her breasts to Jack's wandering gaze. "And you really fought those skeleton pirates? How brave of you, _señor_."

Vera's hand was creeping steadily up his thigh. "O' course I did, love! Where did you think th' stories came from?" He answered, casting her a faint grin.

"So there was a curse, then?" This question came from a pirate whose name Jack couldn't remember but he was small and slight with the kind of eyes that sought out anything of value. Right now they were glued upon Mercedes' bosom. 

"Aye, there was a curse." Jack was not paying much attention to the idle conversation that was now occurring, and hissed quietly through clenched teeth as Vera's fingers brushed against his groin, before grasping her wrist in a grip so tight that it caused the woman to wince. He silenced her protest as he drew her hand away with a brief but rough kiss. "What d'you say t' findin' a little privacy, love?" His voice was hushed with a gruff undertone. 

"Wha' 'bout your little friend? Th' girl ye came with?" She said silkily, and Jack shivered as she pressed her lips against the underside of his jaw after speaking.

"Her? She's –" He turned toward the chair that Sophia had been seated in just moments before.

She was gone.

The entire pub silenced as Jack's murderous bellow echoed through the room. "_Bloody 'ell!_"

-

Sophia was starting to think that perhaps leaving the pub was not such a brilliant idea on her part. She'd been wandering around the port for some time now, and had not caught so much as a glimpse of a respectable gentleman who would be willing to grant her a passage home. Men were staring at her, and she was utterly alone.

Jack had made her furious with his mindless dallying. After that whore had climbed into his lap and he had ordered his third or so rum she'd had enough, and slipped out of the room unnoticed, holding the mass of her skirts in her left hand so they would not drag wastefully over the grimy floor. 

She now slipped quietly into a vacant side street, breathing hitched, and placed a trembling hand against her chest to quell it's heaving. It was dark, and she felt as if eyes were staring out at her from the shadows. She knew it was going to happen again. A quiet keening sound escaped unintentionally from her lips, and she placed her head in her hands, rocking slightly on her feet. She wished fervently for her safe, white cap.

_You have to find Jack._

A strange voice was speaking to her from the recesses of her mind. She shook her head faintly. "Shut up. I won't go traipsing back to find that repulsive pirate." She unintentionally said this aloud in a childlike voice, and despite the knowledge that she was completely alone, whipped her head around to check if anyone had heard her talking to herself. _You're going insane, Sophia. _She ignored the voice this time, and after some moments of standing completely still within the alley, ventured to glance out into the crowded street once more. 

A group of soldiers in their characteristic red uniforms were making their way casually down the street, blatantly ignoring the destruction and various miscreants that crossed their paths. Stifling a cry of delight, Sophia hitched up her skirts and ran towards them. Stopping before them, she was silent for several seconds, simply staring at the faces of her rescuers, before speaking. Her voice was shaken. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I don't suppose you could help me?" 

One of the soldiers glanced at his companions and then down at her. Sophia had the distinct impression that he was trying to catch a glance down her bodice, and shivered despite herself, her eyes wide. Finally, he spoke. "Of course, Miss. . ."

"Cuthburt. Sophia Cuthburt. I'm trying to find a way to Port Royal. I was kidnapped, you see. . ." She trailed off, noticing the stunned expression on the soldier's faces. "Is something wrong?"

One of the other soldiers spoke up. "No, nothing's wrong. There's been an extensive search for you, Miss Cuthburt. Commodore Norringon's been looking in every port, from Tortuga to Port Antonio. In fact, the Dauntless is docked in Nassau tonight for restocking."

Sophia thought she might faint with relief, and one of the soldiers rushed forward to aid her in the event that she would, but she managed to remain upright on shaky knees. "Oh, thank goodness. . ." Her voice was a whisper, the previous thoughts of finding Jack all but flying from her mind. "Would you kind men please take me to the Dauntless?" She could see the reluctance in their faces, and continued hurriedly. "I'm sure you will be rewarded nicely by the commodore." The soldiers grinned. 

Her voice protested._ I thought you didn't like Norrington. _ 

-

Sophia found it amazing how much easier it was traveling through the streets of Nassau with soldiers. The crowds visibly parted for the red-coated men, and it took a mere five minutes to make their way to the docks. Well, Sophia nearly made it to the docks.

She had been trailing behind the soldiers, who had been conversing excitedly about what sort of treasure they were sure the commodore would give them, when something grabbed her about the waist and tugged her into an alleyway. She opened her mouth to let out a high-pitched scream, only to find a grimy palm pressed firmly against her lips, and the hard length of a body pressing her against the wall at her back. _Here we go again. . ._ She thought, rather calmly for the situation.

She bit the hand that covered her mouth, and heard its owner emit a muffled curse. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell did you do tha' for, Sophia?" 

It was Jack. 

Despite herself, Sophia expelled a relieved breath. "Get off of me! Let me go. I have to go home!" Her voice sounded panicked to her own ears. Jack released her, in doing so withdrawing the body that had been holding Sophia against the wall so effectively. She felt suddenly very cold, and wrapped her arms tightly around the slenderness of her form.

Jack was standing in the shadows. Sophia could see only the dark gleam of his eyes as he scrutinized her and the stoic silhouette of his form. When he spoke his voice was deep and gravelly. "I should kill you for leavin' like tha'." Sophia shivered at his tone. He was very, very serious. 

"I have to go now, Jack." She winced minutely at her use of his first name. He was Captain to her, nothing else. "Commodore Norrington is here in Nassau. He's been looking for me. I'm going back to Port Royal. . ." She tilted her chin upwards. "I'm going home." She allowed her gaze to hold his for several moments more. His eyes were expressionless in the darkness. She turned to walk back to the street.

A movement behind her, the soft rustle of cotton on skin, of beads chinking against each other. She felt his hands on her shoulders. He whirled her around and drove her sharply to the wall once more, pressing her firmly against the brick at her back. His lips were on hers, and then she knew nothing of her surroundings. Not of the impending dawn, nor of the guards shouting her name on the street, calling for her.

He tasted of rum and something else she couldn't place. She stood motionless, her lips parted slightly within the kiss. Jack was moving against her, grinding his hips into hers, the satin of her dress rasping faintly against the rougher cloth of his clothing.

She'd never been kissed like Jack was kissing her now. Not as a woman. Playful pecks as a child, hidden and awkward ones with a neighborhood boy named Jamie with whom Sophia had walked on the beach for an afternoon. But never like this. She felt as if he kissed her long enough, her soul would escape gladly from her lips. And she was surprised to find that she was kissing him back.

Her lips were touching, seeking against his. Jack groaned as her hands rose to hesitantly brush against his neck, his jaw, shoulders, and then he was gone from her, and she was left with a tingle upon her lips and a fire in her belly. She could hear him breathing harshly as he stood several feet from her. 

"Jack, what. . .?" Her voice was soft and broke through the silence like a knife through flesh. 

"Go home, Sophia." His footsteps echoed through the darkness as he turned and strode away. She didn't watch him go. 

-

Jack observed Sophia from within the shadow of yet another pub as she hiked uncertainly up the ramp and onto the decks of the Dauntless. Her face was unreadable as Norrington greeted her in a fussy nature. Jack squinted slightly, for the sun was beginning to rise and it set off a glare across the water. He could see only the outline of Sophia's body against the brightness, but it was enough to see that her hair had come loose. Wispy locks were playing across her shoulders, and she held the skirts of that damned blue dress in her right hand to combat the bluster that was beginning to arise. 

He shouldn't have kissed her like that, but the sight of her turning away, her skin a pale glow, had spurred something inside of him. It was for the best that she was going home.

She'd been so soft and pliable beneath his hands in comparison to the brittle, practiced woman he had grown used to in his pirating years, the modest amount of skin available to his touch a silky reminder of what lay beneath her dress. He had forced himself to stop after she'd touched him, her fingertips whispering delicately across his shoulders. Anymore of that and she would have found herself rutted hard into the wall with him between her legs. Yes, it was best that she leave.

Jack sighed faintly as the Dauntless began to pull away from the docks, reaching his hand within the leather pouch that held his various gold coins and jingling its contents slightly. Vera was waiting for him. 

-

Sophia gazed silently at Jack's retreating form just as the Dauntless was beginning to set sail once more. 

_Captain Jack Sparrow is another of those memories you should forget, Sophia._

She could still feel the sting of Jack's lips against hers, the tightness in her chest as his hands flitted over her collarbone. She placed a hand briefly to her temple, willing that blasted voice to quiet.  

Silence. 

She breathed a faint sigh of release. The Dauntless rounded the corner of the island on which Nassau lay, and Sophia suddenly found herself with a full view of The Black Pearl and felt a faint tugging in her chest. Unexpectedly, Sophia had been happy on those days aboard the Pearl, for there had been much work to do and not a great deal of time to think. It had been a grateful respite from the long nights of nightmares and sleeplessness at home. And yet she found herself missing her father, missing the quiet and fixed ways of the townspeople of Port Royal. The entire ordeal was over, and she would never have to deal with the infuriating mannerisms and (sometimes successful) flirtations of Jack Sparrow again. 

"One adventure is enough for a lifetime, I think." 

-

Oooo… I'm so evil. Leaving all of you with only a kiss to remember ickle Jack and Sophia by.  

No, of course it's not over, but I think all of you may be a bit surprised at how this lovely little story starts up again.

Sue, thank you so much for your e-mail, and I promise you your little suggestion will come into play later on. 

Goodbye for now, mis amigos! Look for a new chapter in several days. And please read and review! Yes, I love reviews, as do all those who write these entertaining little fics. So, if you have kindness in your heart, review a story today! All us authors will appreciate it.

(Mwaha. Advertising career in my near future, I bet.)  


	7. The Passing of Time

Chapter: The Passing of Time

-

**_- Four Years Later -_**

Forgetting had never been easy for Jack Sparrow. First there had been Barbossa, whom he had kept in his mind for the ten years after he was marooned, never forgetting the malicious glint that appeared within the traitorous man's eyes as he forced Jack overboard, nor his words. . . _Jack, haven't ye learned by now? No? Well, this'll give ye the time t' think about it, aye?_

But Barbossa was dead now. Jack had other memories on his mind, memories of a beautifully icy woman who had shared one of her deepest secrets with him. Him, of all people!

He didn't think of her often, and when he did it was not as a lovesick man would about his long parted sweetheart. No, he had not come even close to loving her. He remembered her more as a unique force, a woman of many layers and many different truths. It was times like these, rare times when Jack was alone, sitting in some long abandoned pub or late nights on the deck of the Pearl, steering the ship whilst all others were asleep, when the memories of her would come to him. A brief flash of a condescending expression, a mass of black hair, a swishing movement of navy skirts. 

Jack had not returned to Port Royal after that fated day four years before, when he had reluctantly taken a hostage.

And so Captain Jack Sparrow curled his silver-decked fingers around the handle of a half finished mug of rum, lifting a hand to tilt his hat low over his face. He did not want to be recognized - for now. Soon, he knew, he would be seen in this shady corner of lesser known bar in a town called Tortuga, and would be urged to tell a story or two.

No one ever asked him what became of a woman named Sophia Cuthburt who he had once known, for that particular tale was just a minor adventure amidst a lifetime of stories to be told.  

-

Mrs. Sophia Norrington awoke to a vacant bed, groaning as a beam of sunlight shone directly into her closed eyes, illuminating the previous darkness into an eerie reddish hue. Rolling over, she squinted one eye open, beating the empty space beside her with a closed fist. Her husband had left already, off to the sea on his Dauntless. Off to his life. 

With a muted sigh, she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, padding with bare feet to the window that overlooked the harbor. There was a sickly slick at the apex of her thighs, and Sophia, lifting her skirts, found a stain of brownish-red on the pale skin of her inner-thighs. Her courses had come as they always did, every month, disgustingly punctual. Sophia felt a burning prickle at the back of her eyes, and pressed the back of her hand against her forehead.

Sophia was barren. Sterile. For the near three years of her marriage, never had her breasts and belly swelled with the coming of a babe. There was no childish laughter in the Norrington household.

James had accepted this in his own quiet and impassive way, just as he had accepted that on their wedding night there was no vermilion bloodstain to mar the white sheets. Sophia had been frightened that night after their marriage and had even come close to letting her memories escape again. But James had been gentle and patient, sensing her fear, and after becoming used to the duties of a wife, she found sex to be mildly pleasant and tolerable. Her husband was a good man.

-

Some days Sophia would catch herself staring fixedly out to sea. James would ask her with an amused smile on his face, "What are you waiting for, my darling?" and of course, she would laugh and shake her head. "Why would I possibly be waiting for something? I have everything I need here," she would say.  

But she knew what she was waiting for. 

Sophia rarely thought of the Captain who she had met so many years ago. But she dreamed. She dreamed of dark eyes in the shadows and silhouettes of a body in a dark alleyway. She dreamed of rash kisses.

She'd never worn her cap again after those days on the Pearl. It was now crushed at the bottom of her trunk buried beneath the dresses she wore for funerals and weddings.

_Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im._

Sophia was waiting for something to take her away from this place. Take her from this routinethat was Port Royal.

-

"Mrs. Norrington! Oh, Sophia, where are you? I have terrible news!" Charlotte flew through the open door, her tear streaked face and desperate yelling throwing Sophia off guard. Charlotte, her faithful maid, was her sole companion in the periods in which her husband was absent, and to see her so distressed when she was usually so calm and unaffected worried Sophia greatly. She took the crying woman by the shoulders.

"Charlotte, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"It's Mrs. Turner! She's dead!" Sophia blanched, standing motionless in stunned silence. 

Due to James' connection with Elizabeth, for she was whom he had been courting before he'd met Sophia, she had become great friends with the wife of William Turner. They would sit for hours in the Turner's parlor and talk of their adventures on the sea. The two women never spoke of Jack Sparrow, but instead focused mainly on skeletal pirates and rowdy Nassau Port. Elizabeth had been pregnant with her third child. Sophia had been jealous of her.  

Charlotte rambled on, while Sophia stared blankly at the wall. "It was such a difficult birth, and you know how much trouble she'd had with the last. The babe came out and she just kept bleeding. Oh, Sophia! Mr. Turner is heartbroken. He won't eat, and he has to care for the children all by himself, even the newborn baby girl! He –"

Sophia snapped from her vacant state, her eyes focusing once more on the oval-shaped face of Charlotte. "I'm going to see him. I can't bear sitting here and doing nothing, while he suffers." She was surprised by the steady tone of her voice. Her insides were crying, but her eyes remained dry.

-

Jack swaggered into the Faithful Bride, accompanied by a woman on each arm, successfully ignoring their constant babbling. He had more important subjects on his mind, such as how their twin thighs were brushing casually against his as they walked, and the way the breast of the woman on his right persisted on every so often touching his arm. 

"Oh, Jackie! I would like a wee bit o' rum. Will ye get me some? Please?"

"Yes! Me as well! Quite thirsty."

"Captain. . .  's Captain Jackie." Jack muttered incoherently, steering the women towards the bar. 

The barmaid behind the counter peered at him closely, before literally growling, and reaching over to administer a sharp slap to Jack's already sore cheek. 

"Bloody 'ell, woman! Wha' did I do t' deserve tha'?" He roared, once again ignoring the women who fussed over the red mark that was beginning to form just under his cheekbone.

The barmaid shrugged, before reaching between her hefty bosoms to retrieve a slightly crumpled letter. "Jack Sparrow, aye? Well, this be for you, then. From a Mr. William Turner." 

Jack's hand snaked out to snatch the letter from her, brushing off his company's curious fingers as he broke the wax seal and unfolded the worn piece of parchment to read the message within written in a scratchy and messy manner uncharacteristic to Will.

_Jack,_

_Elizabeth is gone. The birth was too difficult for her. A ceremony will be held in a fortnight, if you wish to come. _

_                                                                William Turner_

Jack stood still for a long while. 

"Jack, whoss wrong?" One of the women was speaking to him in a voice that seemed very far away. He jerked as she slid a forefinger smoothly down his bicep, before glancing up and flashing her a suave grin that didn't touch the sadness in his eyes. 

"I'm terribly sorry, darlings, but th' sea calls. Ta." Jack didn't look back to see the disappointed expressions on his previous company's faces as he strode quickly out the door.

-

Gibbs stared at Jack, brows knitted in confusion, as the captain climbed with lithe quickness onto the ship. "What's all th' rush, Cap'n?"

Jack turned abruptly toward his longtime friend, the matted dreadlocks of his hair whipping against his shoulders in the sudden movement. "'Lizabeth's dead. We'll be sailing to Port Royal as soon as I can round up th' crew."

It took a moment for Gibbs to decipher the emotion in Jack's eyes, for he had never before seen nor associated it with this man. It was grief. 

-

The door swung open quickly to reveal a portly maid whose expression, hardened with sorrow, softened slightly as she caught sight of Sophia. 

"Thank goodness you're here, Mrs. Norrington. Master Turner is in terrible shape, I'm afraid." Her voice was but a whisper. Sophia could hear a baby crying in the next room. "He won't let anyone touch that poor child."   

Sophia nodded faintly, before hitching up her skirts and stepping into the house. Will was in the sitting room, hunched in a chair with clumps of dark brown hair framing his face, his handsome features void of everything and all emotions. He held a swaddled baby in his arms, rocking mechanically as the child cried. Sophia hesitated briefly at the expression on his face. His eyes were empty, and he seemed not to see her as she stood in the entrance of the room.

"Will? It's Sophia. . .  I've come to help you." Will's eyes focused on her at last.

"Who said I needed help?" His voice was rusty as if it had not been used for days. He looked at her with distrust and misery in his eyes.

"Well I assumed. . ." Sophia began, silently noticing the two children that stood at the bottom of the stairwell behind Will, a boy, Jonathon, or Jack, as he liked to be called, and a girl, Arabella, gazing at their father fearfully. Sophia smiled briefly in their direction.

"Well don't assume, then," he said, in a strange sort of tone that echoed around the bare walls of the room. She wanted him to be angry, sad, anything but this disturbing vacancy. With a sigh, Sophia slowly shuffled to his side, dropping to her knees and reaching across his lap to part the edge of the blanket that held the child to reveal a beautiful but squalling newborn face. Will tensed as she came close to him. 

"Will. . . may I take her for a bit? You need to rest. Please. . ." She could see the hard shell that he had erected to numb the pain begin to melt at the sweetness in her voice, and her heart broke as he raised his gaze to the ceiling and inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes closed to stop the tears. He didn't protest when she lifted the baby from his arms, holding it firmly against her breast. The tiny infant was clawing at her chest, searching for a nipple to suck, searching for food, and she nearly wept herself because she couldn't give it to her. 

"What's her name, Will?" 

His eyes were staring over her shoulder, avoiding her face. She could see his fists clench, knuckles white with the pressure. "Elizabeth. Her name is Elizabeth." Sophia nodded.

One of the maids was standing quietly at the doorway with a bottle of warm cow's milk in her hand, waiting expectantly as Sophia handed the child over. Little Elizabeth took the bottle eagerly.

She turned back towards Will. He was standing now, his shoulders shaking with suppressed grief. Sophia's heart was shattered for him. 

As she took him in her arms he fell against her as water would upon rock, and she could feel long buried sobs wreak havoc upon his body. She sank to the floor with this brokenhearted man, her skirts pooling about her legs, simply holding him and letting him cry. He was shaking, his calloused fingers grasping the loose pile of hair that still flowed to waist length down her back as if it she were the only thing keeping him from falling into nothingness. 

And she ignored the flutter of fear in her stomach that was too long practiced to ever disappear.

"She's gone. Oh god. . . she's gone!" he cried hoarsely, as if only just realizing the fact that had been true for several days. "Elizabeth. . ." Sophia could feel him pressing his mouth against her shoulder to quell the heart-wrenching groan that she was sure was threatening to escape.

It was only then that she allowed herself to cry, her tears falling onto his hair like rain drops.

-

Will spent the remainder of the day telling Sophia about Elizabeth. Her smile, her eyes and how they changed color with her moods and at different times of the day, the skin of the underside of her wrist, the fine hair that grew on her calves and thighs. He told her of one day when she and Will had taken a walk on the beach and for no apparent reason Elizabeth had charged like a bull into the current, later explaining to him that the waves had been "too perfect." He told Sophia of the births of their children. 

And she listened.

It was only after several hours that Will grew silent, lifting his eyes from his linked hands within his lap to Sophia's face. She was pleased to see a trace of humanity in his features to replace the raw oblivion that they had previously held. "I almost wish. . .  I almost wish that she had been like you." His voice was but a whisper.

Sophia stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Elizabeth told me. . . how you're. . . how you can't have children. I almost wish that she had been like that."

Now it was Sophia's turn to direct her attention wholly to her lap, her face carefully neutral. "I would not wish that upon any woman, Will." She said this so quietly that she was not sure he could have heard her.

He glanced up at her as he heard her sorrowful tone, his face apologetic. "I. . . I'm sorry, Sophia. I shouldn't have said that."

She raised her gaze to meet his, casting him a brief but occupied smile. "Don't be sorry."

-

Will started as a sharp knock sounded through the house, but, to Sophia's surprise, he rose to answer door. She could hear his footsteps echo as he left the room, the door creak open, and silence.

"Jack. . ." Will said, quietly.

Sophia froze. 

Jack? _No no no no no. . . Not after you've almost forgotten. Not now._

Her fears were confirmed as she recognized the swaggering gait of the captain as he stepped into the house. She heard the faint clap of a hand being placed upon a shoulder. 

"Alrigh', mate?" 

Sophia sank more deeply into the cushions into her back. There it was, that smooth slur that she remembered so clearly.

"Yes, I'm alright, now. . ." Will trailed off.    

"Had some 'elp? Good." Jack hesitated. "Listen. . . Elizabeth was. . ." He sounded acutely uncomfortable.

"You don't have to talk about it, Jack."

"Thank th' bloody Christ."

Will lapsed into silence. 

"Well, I guess I'll let meself in, then," Jack stated, and soon Sophia could hear the clomping of heavy boots as he strode towards the sitting room.

"Sorry, Jack. . . Of course you can come in." Will's voice was rushed and faintly guilty at having forgotten his manners.

"Don' worry 'bout it, mate. As I always say. . ." Jack stopped talking (not to mention moving) as he caught sight of Sophia sitting, rather composedly for the situation, on a cushioned chair in the center of the room. She was just as he remembered her, fragile and stunning all at once, sending his mind into a rare whirl of surprise. "Jesus. . ."

Sophia smiled unaffectedly at him. She'd had a good several minutes to regain her poise after she'd known of Jack's presence, and was immensely enjoying the look of utter disjointedness on his face. "Good day, Captain Sparrow. I see you've come to join the party."

-

A/N: Oooohhh! Poor Will! I hope all you Orlando Bloom fans like his intro. I figured I had to bring at least one other of the original main characters in. Actually, I realized that that bit when Sophia's comforting him is a good lead in to a sort of kissy scene, so if anyone would like that version just email me at moonmartian88@hotmail.com . Obviously, there's not going to be anything really heavy because Jack would walk straight into them, but. . yeah. 

Writing a grieving Jack was really very difficult, because they really don't show any of that in the movie, but I figured that he would at least feel a little sadness when he heard of Elizabeth's passing. Let me know what you think!

Anyway, this was by far the most interesting chapter to write, and I hope it shows when you guys read it. Have fun! 


	8. Ruined

Chapter: Ruined

-

"Wha' th' bloody 'ell is she doin' 'ere?" Jack asked for approximately the thirteenth time, still staring incredulously at this ghost of his past. Sophia had spent the past five minutes or so explaining to Will the story of her and Jack's meeting. Due to her husband's profession, not many of the townspeople knew that she had been kidnapped by the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. Commodore Norrington was rather good at keeping things "under wraps," as it were.

As she patiently tolerated Will's disbelieving expression and repeated questions, Sophia snuck glances at Jack, who was now sporting a very irritated look at being ignored so blatantly.

He hadn't changed very much at all since she last saw him swaggering along the streets of Nassau Port. There was still the long, bead-adorned dreadlocks framing a surprisingly artistically formed face, the odd beard with two braids, coppery-tan skin. And those black, black eyes. His eyes had always made her very uncomfortable. She recalled the hazy memory of her first morning on the Pearl, when he had gazed at her for a full minute or so, causing her to squirm awkwardly, her eyes falling to the floor.

Sophia now glanced from Will, who was still trying to comprehend the new information she had shared with him, to find Jack's eyes staring straight into hers, a faint grin plastered upon his lips. It occurred to her dimly that they hadn't _really _greeted one another yet, aside from her rather snide remark when he first caught sight of her. She must have finally shown some sort of the old recognition from those many years ago, for Jack cocked his head faintly to the side, before speaking, that disconcerting smirk still very much visible upon his features.

"'ello, love. Miss me, did you?"

Sophia's previously tranquil gaze now turned to the cold glare that Jack recognized so well, her arms rising to cross tightly over her chest in defiance. "Not particularly, Captain."

Jack's grin grew still wider. There she was. There was the Sophia he knew.

He had forgotten, however, how unsettlingly gray her eyes were.

He had forgotten a lot of things, he noticed, now that he looked upon her once again. The pale cream of her skin, the sheer volume of her ebony-hued hair, for she didn't wear the cap that he had seen her in so many times and guessed she hadn't worn it at all after their little adventure. She was smaller than he remembered, sitting next to Will, who appeared to be a nearly a full foot taller than her, but graceful and fluid in her movements all the same. 

Swallowing, he turned to Will, administering a sharp poke to the man's shoulder to attract his attention. "So, whelp, are you goin' t' answer me question, or no? Wha' the bloody 'ell is she, _Miss Cuthburt_," Jack cast an exasperated look in Sophia's direction. ". . . doin' 'ere?"

"Norrington," Sophia interrupted, gazing steadily at Jack and waiting for his reaction, which she was sure was going to be fairly comical.

"Wha' about 'im?" 

"No, _I'm _Mrs. Norrington." Sophia smirked faintly as Jack's eyes conveyed a number of emotions, the most prominent of those being disbelief.

"D'you mean t' say tha' you married th' bloody_ prick _tha's tried t' kill me more times than I can count?" Jack glanced once to Will, his question only confirmed by a brief nod of the head by the blacksmith. With a bump and slide of a chair being pushed quickly, Jack stood, glowering at the woman that gazed at him in such an infuriatingly calm manner. _"Why?"_

At that, the infamous fire in Sophia's eyes resurfaced as it seemed to always do around this man, and she stood as well, stepping towards him with a confidence she never would have known those four years ago. 

"_Because_, Captain, he is a good man, something you would never know about, and I love him. Because he is the only one that respected me after you decided on a whim to drag me onto that pile of lumber that is your ship, while everyone else, including my family, essentially disowned me. They decided I had been tainted or spoiled, because of _you_! You ruined me, Captain Sparrow." 

Both Jack and Will stood, silent and utterly flabbergasted, before this fuming woman. Will, for one, had never seen Sophia Norrington as she was now, fiery and defiant, while Jack was still debating on whether to fire off another angry retort (and in that case, what could he say to such a declaration as _that?_), or simply stalk out the door. 

As if reading his mind, Sophia quickly turned in a swish of starched skirts, arms held stiff at her sides, and moved as fast as possible, which was not terribly fast due to the garment that she was adorned in, towards the door, slamming it harshly behind her.

That abrupt sound echoed around the room long after she had departed. Jack slowly turned towards Will, who was still staring at the place in which he had last seen Sophia and was wearing an expression so amusing that, in any other situation, Jack might have burst out laughing. Instead, he frowned, glancing once more towards the door, and then back at the man beside him.

"She insulted me ship." 

-

Sophia groaned as Charlotte opened the curtains as she always did in the morning, causing the bright sunlight to filter into the previously dim room.

"Elizabeth's funeral is today, Mrs. Sophia. I should think it's about time you get out of bed," the young maid declared quietly, before turning and shuffling demurely from the room, closing the door silently behind her. Charlotte, Sophia noted, had become quite unlike her usual self since Elizabeth's death.

Sophia had been dreading the funeral. She'd managed to avoid Jack fairly successfully in the past several days, and she was sure he would be at the ceremony today. She had not seen him since that terrible day at the Turner household. Sophia still felt somewhat guilty for what she'd revealed to the captain on that day after fully remembering the day of her kidnapping those years ago. It wasn't as if Jack had really had a choice or not. It had been either an escape or his life.

In fact, Sophia had been frequently thinking back to those days on the Black Pearl, for the sight of Jack Sparrow had spurred many forgotten memories to arise once more, it seemed. Now, as she lay on the soft sheets of the bed her husband shared with her (when he was actually _in _Port Royal, of course), she allowed her mind to wander back four years. . . 

-

_She was sleeping in various uncomfortable positions in a bathtub, of all places, only to have Jack walk in on her, intending to relieve himself. An infuriating grin, humiliation. _

_"By th' way, Miss Cuthburt, people o' the normal sort don' usually sleep in bathtubs, jus' t' let y'know."_

_Jack hovering over her, unexpected concern blatantly shown within the dark depths of his eyes. Salt water on her skin, so much pain. _

_"Where does it 'urt, love?"_

_He was bent in two at the waist, an almost comical grimace upon his features. Anger, betrayal. _

_"If you ever touch me again, Sparrow, I will slit your throat with your own sword while you sleep."_

_Jack's arm hard around her waist, his hips pressed against hers as she struggled. She was trapped, helpless. It was happening again._

_"Come now, love. Pretty lass like you can't enjoy a bit o' fun?"_

_She cowered in the corner, hard, splintering wood at her back, eyes glazed and empty as memories and nightmares whirled in her head. Her name, recognition._

_"I think you'd better tell me wha's goin' on, lass."_

Dark eyes in the night, a black silhouette of his body. Tingling lips, heavy breathing, a question.

"Go home, Sophia."

She had gone.

-

Sophia jerked as Charlotte once again entered the room, bearing a cup of strong tea. The maid furrowed her brow as she handed the steaming mug to her, finally catching sight of Sophia's face. "Mrs. Sophia? Are you alright?"

Sophia looked up, a troubled smile gracing her lips briefly, before she brought the mug to her lips, inhaling the steam that rose from the liquid within before sampling the tea, swirling the scalding liquid in her mouth before swallowing and speaking soon thereafter. "Yes, I'm alright. I think I just need to sit here for a minute or two." Charlotte nodded, and, interpreting that as a signal to leave, did so without delay. 

Sophia set the mug down on her dresser with a sharp clatter. She was trembling.

-

Sophia dug in a frustrated flurry through the trunk that held her various dresses, searching for the rather ill-fitting black one that always seemed to smell of mothballs. It had been her mother's, and Lady Cuthburt had given it to her daughter when she was married to James. A funeral dress as a wedding present.

Sophia grasped one handful of silky satin and threw a garment that seemed to be buried beneath all the rest across the room. With a sigh of relief, her fingertips finally came to brush across the rough black cotton of the funeral dress that was crushed against the side of the trunk. Shaking the dress out, she groaned at the sight of it. It was too big and very hindering, for whenever she wore it she always managed to fall flat upon her face at one time or another. 

She folded the black dress carefully over the now closed trunk, raising her eyes to catch sight of the mess that was now the bedroom. Petticoats and dresses were strewn about the floor and various articles of furniture. Sophia gasped, a quick, smothered sound, and her hand reached out to touch the corner of her dresser, steadying herself, as her gaze fell upon the bed.

There, spread across the mussed sheets of her bed like some perverse imitation of the human body lay the deep, midnight blue satin of the dress. Memories. . . more memories.

-

Jack stared at the wall, arms crossed over his chest. She couldn't see his eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips. He cleared his throat.

"Wha' did you do, woman?"

"What are you implying, Captain?"

"Nothing. You jus' look different." 

-

 She'd forgotten about that dress, but now, as she traced a forefinger around the wide neckline, the folds in the skirt, she remembered. She remembered freedom from her cage. 

She would wear the dress. She would wear it for him. 

-

Beautiful day for a funeral, Jack thought wryly as he trekked up the hill towards the cemetery, maintaining his distance from the other attendants, who, it seemed, had nothing better to do than throw him disapproving glances as they walked. He always felt out of place in the company of those sorts of people.

It was, in fact, a very beautiful day. The sky was impossibly clear, the sea a rare shade of turquoise, and the grass that was crushed beneath his boots was a bright, vibrant green. Not that he noticed, mind you. The famous captain was caught up in his thoughts.

Thoughts of her. 

He hated to admit it to himself, but he felt vaguely guilty about Sophia. He hadn't really thought much about what the effects of his little escapade those four years ago would have on her life, and her fury-fueled statement that she had spit into his face several days before had drawn that realization into sharp focus. She hated him.

Jack rubbed a rough palm over his face, sighing faintly. He didn't need this. Abruptly, he decided that he and his crew would be leaving as soon as the service was ended. 

Will strode over to walk beside his longtime friend. Jack lifted his gaze to the man's face, wincing slightly. The blacksmith's countenance was stony as rock, his eyes dead. Jack turned away, vaguely wishing for a thought, words, something that could help the poor lad. Nothing.

So, instead, Jack reluctantly searched the gathering crowd for Sophia. She wasn't there. 

-

Jack stared blankly at the hole in the ground, the upturned earth, and the group of black-clothed people that stood around it. He stood to the side, alone, arms crossed tightly across his chest, legs spread as if stationing himself at the helm of his Pearl.  

Will stood much as Jack did, gazing in a disturbing, vacant manner into the rectangle-shaped opening in the earth where the body of his wife, entombed in a coffin, was soon to be laid. No tears were shed on his part. 

This 's for Elizabeth, Jack, he reminded himself, being highly uncomfortable in this unfamiliar situation. Jack had never been to a funeral before. Well, not one on land. For some odd reason, sending a body indefinitely into the ground was much worse than watching it, wrapped in white linen, sink slowly into the waves.

The service was about to begin.   

And so Jack squirmed slightly, casting his eyes back towards the center of Port Royal. His breath hitched, and he ignored his various braids and dreadlocks as they whipped across his face in the wind. 

She was walking up the green slopes of the hill, her hand grasping the skirts of the dress in a vain attempt to keep them from flying every which way, her hair drifting in wispy locks around the softness of her features. Unconsciously, Jack noticed the stark contrast between the shimmer of the dark blue fabric and the almost neon green of the grass beneath her feet.

It was that damn dress. It floated delicately in the wind, and made it seem that she was gliding, gliding across the grass. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if her feet were, in fact, not touching the ground.

Sophia carefully avoided glancing at Jack, who she was sure would be staring, completely dumbstruck, at her. She bent her head as she joined the outskirts of the group of people, flushing slightly crimson at the realization that she was terribly late, for the pastor was just about to begin the sermon. She could feel the heat of Jack's eyes on her.

-

After many tears shed, Sophia stepped quietly over to Will once the ceremony was finished. He was still staring fixedly at the now filled gap in the earth. She gently touched his hand, still slightly soiled from the earth he had thrown down to mar the shiny surface of Elizabeth's coffin, and he jolted, his hand instinctively drawing away from her fingers.

She frowned faintly in response to his reaction. "Will, are you going to be alright?" 

"I expect so. After a bit," he murmured, his gaze never faltering from the ground, his mouth set at a thin line.

At a loss, Sophia hesitated, before patting his arm reassuringly and turning to make her way once more down the hill. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and sleep the day away. Yet all was in vain, for when she was just halfway down the hill a hand reached out to firmly grab her elbow, jerking her from her path of travel. It was all she could do to keep her balance and no go tumbling down the hill. She let out a muted squeak of surprise, before glaring furiously into the eyes of her captor. "What are you - . . . Jack?" She nearly cursed as she slipped with his name. Captain, Sophia, Captain.

Jack released her arm, shoving her from him as he did so. She had rarely seen him so angry. His eyes had turned a dark, dark black and she could see the muscles in his jaw tight with fury. "Wha' th' bloody 'ell is this, Sophia?" He said quietly, in a voice so dangerous it caused her to shiver involuntarily.

"What do you mean, Captain?" Thankfully, her tone was strong and didn't waver in the least. He motioned indistinctly towards her, towards the dress.

"That! Th' dress!"

"Oh, that? I hadn't noticed." She smiled coolly at him, her hands placed strategically upon her hips.

"You didn't notice. Alrigh'. . ." Jack passed the back of his hand over his forehead. Sophia could see his body tense beneath the worn clothes he seemed so fond of wearing. "I suppose you're mockin' me, then? 'S this meant t' be a punishment?"

"Why would it be a punishment, Captain Sparrow? It's just a silly dress."

"Because. . . Oh, bloody 'ell." Unable to face her anymore, Jack spun on his heel and began striding quickly down the hill, his usual swagger forgotten for the time being.

Sophia frowned, watching him as he retreated. She hadn't meant to sound so patronizing. With a faint groan, she hitched up her skirts and ran after him, reaching out a hand to grasp his forearm. He reluctantly stopped, his eyes still focused deliberately away from her. "Oh. . . wait, Captain. I. . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . . Well, what I mean is. . .  Of course I noticed. I found this dress buried in my trunk and thought. . . it's silly, but I thought that perhaps we could declare a truce, if you will. I don't really want to be angry at you. And. . . I don't hold it against you that you took me all those years ago. I really don't."

Jack stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes veiled. He didn't know how to respond, the words wouldn't come, and instead lifted his gaze to search slowly around their surroundings. Apart from Will, who still stood at the grave, oblivious to all that was around him, there was no one else on the grassy hill. "Where's your husband, then, love?"

Sophia relaxed minutely as she registered his familiar nickname. He'd forgiven her. "James? He's out to sea."

"Ah. . . he's not 'ere often, is he?" Jack was grinning his trademark grin at her, his ordinary sway and swagger returning along with those unique gestures. Sophia smiled faintly in return.

"Well, he is the Commodore. Important business to attend to, you see. But I love him all the same," she stated, somewhat playfully. Jack's smile quirked slightly in response to that, perplexity showing briefly in his eyes. She had changed in subtle but somehow still deeply noticeable ways in the four years since their parting. Never would she have carried such a light tone and sported the good-natured twinkle in her eyes that she did now before on those days aboard the Pearl. 

"Do you?" Jack asked, somewhat roughly. Sophia shifted under his scrutiny. His eyes were intense as they soaked in her face, looking for a reaction.

Did she? Did she love her husband? 

Their courting and engagement had been brief. Sophia could scarcely remember their events. James had been kind and yet in some ways distant.

"Y-Yes. Of course I do." Her voice was quiet, and Jack lifted her hand within his, patting his significantly larger one over it. 

"Tha's good, then."

With that, he turned, calling back as he, once more, started swaggering in a slightly comical fashion down the slope. "I'll be leavin' in th' afternoon, love. I 'xpect this'll be goodbye."

Sophia followed, only to stand brazenly in his path, smiling. "Well then, Captain, I wish you luck and many years more of rum, whoring, looting, and whatever else you pirate sorts do." Before she could advise herself against it, she had stood up on her tiptoes to brush her lips briefly against his cheek. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders beneath her hands tense a bit. "Despite what you and many of the. . . er. . . not so virtuous ladies in the Caribbean may say, you are a good man, Captain Sparrow. Just don't loose your way." 

She had made it nearly to the bottom of the hill before Jack moved, placing one coarse fingertip against his cheek and beginning to stride towards the docks. He'd never been kissed in such a chaste manner before.

He thought that, perhaps, he might actually miss her.

Well, maybe for a couple days, at least. 

-

A/N: Grrr. . . Jack is emotionally stunted. 

-Jack growls- No I'm not!

Of course you're not, dear. Now go back to your closet. –Jack stalks off, grumbling-

ANYWAYS, back to the point. Despite what it may seem, this is not, I repeat, NOT, over. If it was, how could I explain the title of this perdy little fic? Mwhaha. That comes later.  

Arg, I hate my computer. The italics that had been working perfectly have suddenly decided to go an eensie bit haywire again. So, I think they cut out right in the middle of Sophia's first memories of Jack. Go figure. 

Okay, It's time to thank the wonderful, beautiful, praise-worthy reviewers. Which I haven't done before this! Bad. Bad. Shame. Wicklowe and piratex, you guys are awesome, and so very wonderfully faithful! Everyone else, thank you so so so so much. I really appreciate it. Makes those long hours at the computer worth it! 

Thanks to all my readers, too. I truly hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. 

What's in the next Chapter, you ask? Hmm. . . more sadness, more funniness, and stupid royal navy peoples! Not to mention more of our favorite people, Jack and Sophia.

-Jack peeks from his closet- She's not my favorite person!

Shut up, you!        


	9. Colored Crimson

Chapter: Colored Crimson

-

Sophia could not sleep. The moonlight shone in slender slivers through the curtains, casting an eerie bluish hue around the room that transformed familiar objects that she knew so well into monsters and demons created by a wary mind. Demons. Sophia knew demons. They were hers.

Or perhaps she was theirs.

Despite the warm blankets that encased her body, she shivered. She had not directly thought of the events of her fifteenth year in quite some time, but Sophia suspected that the subconscious memories were always there, the demons were always laughing. She would find herself flinching as a stranger brushed by her, or, when she became so utterly and completely lost within her own mind that she knew not of her surroundings, even shrinking away from her own husband as they made love.

She was thinking of those nightmarish hours now. Recalling the nauseating stench of his sweat, the rough way in which he wrenched her knees apart. The pain when he moved inside of her.

And it had been hours, hours in which he assaulted her again and again, opening wounds over and over.

Sophia brushed the pad of her fingertip across her cheek. She was crying. Crying in the silent way of a broken woman.

_Shut up, Sophia. You're not broken. _She wasn't sure.

Sophia had to get out of this blasted house. Out of this bed. The bed on which, when her husband returned, he would demand that she perform the duties of a wife.

And so she rose, slipping on one of her more comfortable dresses, for she couldn't very well go tramping about Port Royal in her nightgown, and walked quickly from the room, from the bed and the house, the bright crimson of her dress billowing out behind her.

Her mother had said only whores wore red, but Sophia loved the color. It was full of life.

She had never noticed how empty Port Royal was at night. And yet the rowdy voices and music from the less savory section of the town made the desertion of the docks seem not as desolate as it would in silence. She walked slowly along the abandoned street closest to the water, her fingertips reaching out to ever so slightly glance across the sides of buildings as she went, steadying her less-than-sure footsteps in the dark. The moonlight reflected along the water, the breaking waves within it crescents of blue light in the midst of darkness. Sophia inhaled the scent of cold sand and salt, closing her eyes briefly in the ecstasy of it. She was grateful to be out of the stuffy bedroom with its monsters and dead feeling. Nothing was alive in there.

She paused briefly as the sound of boots treading along the ground echoed across the stagnant buildings, the muscles in her legs tensing, ready to flee if the worst should happen. But no, it was only two red-clad soldiers with their muskets and stony expressions. Hiding their surprise at her being out so late and unaccompanied, they tipped their ridiculous hats in her direction and were on their way.

It was only then that Sophia noticed a slice of bright light that shone between two massively jagged boulders jutting out of the water. These boulders protected a small cove from both the eyes of the townspeople and the elements. It was only because of the darkness of the night that Sophia was able to see the single lantern that swayed lightly on its perch, seeming to float in midair. She squinted into the blackness, but was unable to see anything but that small spot of piercing brightness. She found herself unconsciously walking towards the small, overgrown trail that led to that cove, used only by small children as they enlarged their playing territory. They would sit on a rock overhang and throw stones into the water, sometimes even clambering down the yet steeper path to the rocky shore. 

Sophia decided to follow her subconscious decision, and, gathering her skirts in her hand to protect them from brambles and such, hurried down the path. She could feel the somewhat unpleasant sense of adrenaline welling in her chest and quickening her heart as she realized that going to investigate some mystery light, alone and in the dead of night, was probably not the safest thing she could be doing. The safest, she thought, would be to stay back in her warm bed and sleep the night away, obedient and expected. She didn't want to be obedient and do what's expected of her anymore.

Since that afternoon in which she had finally blown up and began yelling like a mad woman to Jack, Sophia had felt something within her break. She was still trying to decipher whether it had been her sanity, the strict conformity of society and its rules, or something else. All she knew was that ever since that day she had begun to act much more daring and spontaneous, so much so that she had begun to wonder of her health. First that silly dress, then kissing Jack on the cheek, and now this, which rivaled all those before. Her husband would not like it.

Sophia snapped from her state of reverie to gaze studiously over the cove as she rounded the corner and emerged from the various palms and flowers. Her eyes passed over a faintly familiar ship with quiet curiosity, and she could barely make out over the crashing of waves against rocks the demanding shouts of the crew members as they did what she could only assume was unload the various provisions. 

She had the slightly inane notion that this ship was the Dauntless and James had come back early, for some reason docking here instead of the usual port, but soon realized that this was utterly absurd because he would never have done something so unexpected. Nevertheless, she had to make sure and slowly ventured down the steep incline towards the shore.

She had only made it down about three quarters of the way when she collided sharply with someone's chest. Stumbling back and stifling a yelp of surprise, she promptly tripped over her skirts and went tumbling down the path, carrying this stranger with her.

She finally rolled to a stop and lay there for several moments, listening to the unknown person get up, muttering several profanities as he, for it was in fact a man, rose from the ground and dusted himself off with the careless strokes of someone in a hurry. She creaked one eye open, before the other one followed in a shocked manner and she lurched to her feet. Luckily the path hadn't been dusty and she was only left with faint smudges of dirt on her dress and face. "You're supposed to have gone already!"

Jack turned, a slightly sour expression portrayed on his face at having just toppled down the hill somewhat painfully. At seeing Sophia, his features returned to their normal good-humored state and he sauntered casually towards her, fluttering his hands about as he moved. "You're not happy t' see me, then?" He shot her the famed lop-sided grin that usually managed to turn woman to jelly at his feet, but the pesky woman just stood there, gazing at him with amusement dancing in her eyes and her arms crossed over her chest.

Sophia ignored his question. "Why are you still here, Captain? You said you were leaving in the afternoon." 

As he watched her speak to him in her usually brazen manner, the moonlight and shadows from the various foliage falling across the pale skin of her face, Jack was faintly reminded of the night four years ago when he'd first seen this enigma of a woman. She looked very much the same, the years since their parting having had little effect on her appearance. With the wide grayness of her eyes, she still appeared to be young and innocent, although Jack knew that she was not the latter at all. She'd seen her share of horrors.

He hadn't thought much about her confession of her rape that terrible night in his cabin, and had very nearly blocked the disturbing glazed image of her eyes from his mind. She had looked small, fragile like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

"Th' ship needed repairs, but we're nearly ready t' push off. Now, why are _you _'ere? Out 'n th' wilderness in th' dead o' night's not th' wisest place for a lass like you t' be, love," he questioned, his eyes holding hers in a stare that unsettled her slightly.

At that moment the pair heard a rustling of leaves that was too unnatural to be wind and a crunch of dirt beneath a foot. Jack's face changed, and was now stoic and concentrated, focused intently on whatever had made that unnervingly human sound, and the lean muscles in his shoulders tensed. Sophia scarcely had time to wonder at how Jack could be such a completely different man in the face of possible danger before he grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her into a bush, following in her path quickly. He pressed the slender span of her back to his chest as to minimize their chance of being seen, his hand a comforting reminder of safety on her shoulder. She twisted her head awkwardly around to glance at him as he held a finger to his lips. Quiet. She held her breath. 

A male voice pierced suddenly through the humid air, its tone somewhat shaky. Its owner was frightened. "Oy! You there! Jack Sparrow!" Sophia heard Jack curse softly. "C-Come out of there! This is the Royal King's navy! You're under arrest!"

Now it was Sophia's turn to grimace. The soldiers had followed her. "Oh, bollocks," she hissed, and Jacks fingers tightened on her shoulders, signaling her to remain silent. To her surprise, he eased out from behind her and into the open air. Sophia heard muskets cock before Jack spoke, his voice perfectly composed.

"Ah, well. . .  Since you fine gentlemen seem to 'ave everything in order, I'll jus' be on me way, savvy?" Sophia watched through gaps in the foliage as Jack turned on a booted heel to "be on his way." One of the guards, as there were two, she could now see, made a nervous hum of protest.

"Stop! Y-You are under arrest, Sparrow! I. . . I'll shoot you!" 

 With a strangled sigh, Jack turned once again to face the two men, swaying quickly up to them and shoving his face uncomfortably close to the one who'd threatened him, his brow furrowed in an expression of false stupidity. "Very well, then." Jack retreated, barely able to contain the smirk that was threatening at his lips, and stepped towards the bush that Sophia still hid within. "I suppose I'll 'ave t' bid you men farewell. Tell the dear Commodore tha' I'm sorry I missed 'im."

Jack moved so fast that Sophia couldn't see his arm as it wrapped quickly around her waist and yanked her from the leaves. She protested in disjointed sentences, but Jack shot her a somewhat foreboding glare. Sophia realized then that if she had been found after speaking on seemingly friendly terms with a pirate with who knows how many pounds on his head she would be accused of treason. Jack was saving her as well as himself. Then they were off, Jack dragging her behind him as she struggled to keep up and cope with her voluminous skirts simultaneously. Sophia had a disconcerting sense of déjà vu as she felt Jack's hand gripping hard at her upper arm and her feet flying across the ground in a rapid run.

_Sophia was gasping for air, something was constricting her lungs. They were sprinting along the docks, the Black Pearl in sight. Musket shots rang out behind them._

It was only then that she realized that the shots were not from her memory, but existed in the present. Jack quickened their already impossibly fast pace. 

It seemed to Sophia that the next series of events occurred in movements slowed by a strange fluke of time. Just as they rounded the corner to safety, she heard the sickening slap of metal meeting flesh and a sharp hiss of pain from the man at her side.

Jack doubled over briefly, the pain from his shoulder causing his knees to shake and his eyes to squeeze shut, but was soon upright again and running, perhaps a little slower than before, towards the Pearl.

Sophia glanced at Jack as she ran. A river of vermilion was just beginning to stream steadily from a rough bullet wound on his left shoulder. Before she could let out a muffled cry of surprise, strong hands were pulling them onto the familiar decks of the Black Pearl.

The ship looked exactly the same as it had four years ago when Sophia had climbed her riggings, reveling in her freedom. But now, a dark shadow hung over the wooden structure, whether from the darkness of night or Jack's condition, she did not know. She glanced up to pass her eyes over the various members of the crew, all of whom were staring rather disbelievingly at her. Gibbs looked as if he was going to have a sort of epileptic fit, and was whispering what Sophia ruefully expected was something to the effect of "not another blasted woman." Thandor was gazing at her, open mouthed. He'd grown into his gawky long limbs, she noticed, and was now quite a good-looking man. Anamaria was smiling, which was a somewhat rare occurrence. Sophia recognized familiar features, an eye patch, a dirty blue sash, a shock of scraggly red hair, all of which spurred memories of their owners. Someone questioned in a shocked voice from somewhere within the group, "Miss Cuthburt?"

Sophia was about to answer when she was distracted by a quiet groan from the man at her side. Jack was swaying on his feet, his face a pale shade beneath the healthy bronze tan. Sophia's pulse quickened as she noticed the rapidly growing pool of red at his feet that trickled increasingly down the length of his body. 

"Hurry, lads! 'Ee's 'urt! Get 'im t' th' cabin!" Gibbs shouted, and immediately several men lugged Jack up and escorted him to his quarters, one of the Captain's arms slung over each one of their shoulders. 

Sophia stood, looking at that crimson bloodstain on the deck of the Black Pearl. She didn't notice as the remainder of the crew got the ship moving in open water with practiced actions, but, after several moments of motionless silence, turned and briskly walked towards Jack's cabin. She did, after all, know where it was.

She'd been there before.

-

A/N: Ahh! I feel so bad! Poor Jack. 

I was so happy that I got to write Jack being his normal (well, sorta) self again. I was so tired of writing a sad/angry/depressed Jack. We like happy/silly/half-drunk Jack so much better, but now he had to go and get himself shot! Ugh.  

Hm… not much to say. Interesting character development (Yes, there's more) in the next couple chapters. They should be up soon, 'cause I gots break now! Praise be.

Read and review, ladies and gents. And, by all means, enjoy yourselves!


	10. Injuries and Unexpected Tasks

A/N: Ehm. . . this chapter is just an eensy bit gory. Not violent, just kinda yucky. So if you have a really, really weak stomach just skip over the parts that make you sick. It's not really bad or anything, I'm just warning you guys so no one gets mad at me. :) 

-

Chapter: Injuries and Unexpected Tasks

-

Jack's cabin was pandemonium. Nearly half the crew was squeezed into the small space and most of them were loudly voicing their opinion on what should be done about Jack's condition.

Sophia stood at the doorway, her eyes sweeping around the room. Jack now lay on his bed, blood still flowing freely from his shoulder, and looked as if he'd like to painfully murder everyone in the room for not paying more attention to his injury. Sophia cleared her throat, hoping to gain at least some of the crew's attention. Nothing.

"Will everyone please SHUT UP?!?"

She hadn't known her voice could reach that volume.

The crew froze. 

"Thank you." Her voice returned to its normal decibel. "Now, don't you all think that we should do something about that bullet hole in Jack's shoulder?" Sophia heard an affirmative grunt from Jack as he lay on the bed, and the crew moved from her path as she walked towards the bedside, inspecting Jack's state. "Where's the ship's surgeon?"

Gibbs spoke up somewhat meekly. "You're lookin' at 'im, lass."

Sophia glanced at him, surprise evident on her face. "_You're_ the surgeon?"

"No, Jack is."

"Well bloody lot of good that does us," she whispered to herself, before crossing her arms over her chest and studying Jack more closely.

Master Cuthburt, having gained some knowledge of healing in his time at sea, had taught Sophia the basic skills needed to dress a wound and care for it if it became inflamed and pussy, but she wasn't sure if she'd be able to care for something this serious. Jack's wound was not terribly deep, but looked rough and prone to infection. 

Jack's voice, gravelly and strained from pain, awoke her from her thoughts. "You'll need t' take th' bullet out, love. It's still in there, I can feel it." Sophia averted her gaze to his face. Jack was grinning faintly at her in what she supposed was an encouraging way, his features still deathly pale. Sophia nodded her thanks and turned to address the crew.

"Right then. Um, I'll need some clean linen strips and. . ." Sophia searched her mind for some sort of object that could fulfill its purpose. ". . .a pair of long-handled whisker trimmers, please."  

Someone scurried from the room only to return several moments later with her requests. Setting the bandages and scissors down next to Jack's feet on the bed, Sophia carefully, as not to cause him more pain, unbuttoned Jack's shirt and parted it to expose most of his chest. Jack remained silent throughout this, his eyes glassy with pain and it seemed to Sophia that he was not even aware of what was happening around him, but had escaped into a muted place in his mind to escape the majority of the agony. She stifled a grimace at the sight of the bullet hole.

The copper tone of his skin contrasted sharply with the steadily darkening red of his blood as it flowed across his chest. Sophia inspected the placement of the wound. The bullet had missed his shoulder blade by a mere centimeter, and therefore had not shattered the bone. Nor had it hit any vital organs, or at least any that Sophia could see. Sophia had not the knowledge to know this, but if the bullet had entered Jack's body on the left side instead of the right, it would have ripped open the major artery that led from the heart to the brain, and Jack would have bled to death by now.

She pressed a wadded up bit of cloth to the wound and applied firm pressure, ignoring Jack's jerk as a fresh jolt of pain shot through his limbs. She wanted to slow the blood flow before she removed the bullet, a task she was not particularly jumping to do. After that cloth had been soaked crimson, she discarded it and replaced it with another, until the linen remained relatively free of blood. She broke the silence within the room like a knife through flesh. "Captain, can you move your right arm?"

Jack's dark eyes focused on hers for a moment, fore he turned his head slightly to the right to stare at his arm, as if his eyes could will it to move. Sophia shifted her gaze to his arm. The calloused fingers curled into a loose fist, and with quiet moan of pain from Jack, the entire right arm moved about an inch so that it was closer to his torso. Sophia allowed a nervous smile to present itself upon her lips. Jack was once more gazing vacantly at the ceiling, and his voice surprised her. "I should be able t' use me arm once it's 'ealed." Pausing for a moment, he turned his head to glance at Gibbs, casting him a weak grin. "I'd love for a swig o' rum about now, mate." His request was quickly answered, and, despite the situation, Sophia had to smile as Jack uncorked the bottle with his teeth and took a substantial slug of the alcohol, much as he did her first morning on the ship those four years ago.

Returning her train of thought to the matter at hand, Sophia inhaled somewhat shakily, grasped the scissors and dropping to her knees beside the bed. "Can someone get him something to bite down on, please? I'm going to take the bullet out now," she said, her voice faintly unsteady.

Thandor produced a thick strip of leather, and Jack grasped it with his good arm and placed it roughly between his teeth. Sophia noticed the captain's body tense as if bracing himself for an onslaught of cold water to be thrown his way.    

Sophia placed her two index fingers on either side of the wound and parted the gaping gash to peer inside of it, ignoring both the churning of her stomach and Jack's quick intake of breath through his nose as she broke open the thin crust of scab that had already begun to form. A swell of fresh blood ran down his chest. Blotting away some of the red liquid, Sophia searched inside the wound with her eyes for the bullet. Ah, there it was, its underlying gray tone barely noticeable beneath a coating of scarlet, nestled within the gory muscles and leaking its poison into Jack's system. Sophia glanced briefly at Jack. His eyes were squeezed shut, face pale. "Jack?" she murmured, unsure.   

Jack muttered something that sounded to be something to the effect of "get on with it, then" over his strip of leather, and, without warning save for a deep exhale, Sophia eased the scissors into the bullet wound. Jack wrenched in his horizontal position, but he made no sound. She tried to stop the shaking of her hand lest it cause him even more pain. Without more ado, Sophia began attempting to seize the projectile between the two metal shears of the scissors. 

It seemed to Sophia that her mind had gone blank except for the task of removing the bullet. She didn't think of the gruesome properties of this mission, nor of the pain of the patient. Her world existed of the wound, the scissors, and this lump of lead.

After several tries, as the bullet was very slippery and the scissors were not the best tool to be using for this purpose, Sophia extracted the bullet from the hole in Jack's chest, bringing it up with a nauseating squelch and letting it and the scissors fall with a muted clatter against the wood of the floor.

She simply sat there, poised on her heels, for several moments, her own face nearly as pale as Jack's, sweat gleaming on her brow, before jumping into action and, once again, pressing the linens to the wound to quell the new blood that streamed from it. After she had stopped most of the bleeding, Sophia wrapped a bandage from under Jack's arm to nearly the base of his neck, tying the knots of the cloth neatly and trying to ignore the fact that, because of the blood that stained her hands, her red fingerprints were spotted across the whiteness of the dressing.

Sophia looked up for the first time in several minutes at Jack. He'd passed out.

Not that she blamed him.

Sophia sat on the floor for a long time, staring blankly at the wooden planks of the wall until someone tapped her shoulder and said that there was a spare cabin that she could sleep in.

It was dusty and smelled slightly of rotting wood, but there was a bed, and that was all that Sophia needed. She fell upon the old blankets and was asleep within seconds.

Before slumber took her, however, she wondered faintly why Jack hadn't mentioned this cabin _last _time she'd been here.

_Bloody scoundrel._

-

It took Sophia quite a few minutes of lying motionless on the musty bedclothes to remember where she was, but the gentle lull of the ship brought her to her senses. She hadn't been on a ship since the last time she was on the Pearl, simply because she didn't want to be that close to the ocean and the pain that it caused when it came in contact with her skin. She still carried that burden.

Yes, it was a burden. 

With a faint sigh, Sophia rose from her resting place and walked silently, not wanting to disturb the crew in their task, onto the sunlit decks. She stood for a long while, elbows planted firmly on the rail and just staring vacantly out to sea, her eyes shifting from one swell to the next. She started slightly when Anamaria came to stand next to her. "Alrigh', Sophia?"

Sophia nodded slightly, gazing for some time more into the blue water, before turning to face the woman. "Where are we next going to make berth, Anamaria?"

Anamaria was silent for several moments, trying to decipher the unfamiliar emotion in Sophia's eyes before speaking. "Calcutta. Captain Sparrow picked up a rumor o' a very wealthy British tea plantation owner there wi' a house ripe for plunderin'. 'e says –"

"India! We're going to bloody India?" Sophia interrupted, placing her head in her hands and muttering faintly to herself. "_Damn_. How bloody wonderful."

Anamaria patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Don' worry, Sophia. The captain'll get ye home."

As if just remembering Jack's state, Sophia jerked upwards from her bent position, her eyes searching for the familiar wooden door that led to his cabin. "How is he?"

"Don't rightly know. Ye may want t' go check on 'im, though." 

"Alright. Thank you, Anamaria. It's good to see you again," Sophia said, a distracted smile playing across her lips as she turned and began walking towards the main body of the ship.    

Just as Sophia was about to enter Jack's cabin, she met a young cabin boy carrying what she could only assume was the captain's breakfast. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder just as he was about to open the door. "I'll take that. I was just going to check in on him."

The boy handed the tray over to her eagerly and scuttled off to do whatever other duties had been assigned to him. Balancing the food on one arm and drawing in a deep, collecting breath, Sophia swung the door open with her free hand.

Jack was not asleep, as she had expected, but instead sat propped against the headboard and wearing an expression of annoyance at having to remain in bed when work was to be done, she was sure. At the sound of her soft footsteps, he swiveled his head and fixed her with a menacing glare. Sophia sat down in a chair that had been positioned across from him and set the tray of food in her lap, her eyes focused intently upon the bowl of what seemed to be a gruel of some sort. 

"Will you tell them tha' I don' need t' be treated like a bloody invalid? Gibbs has even taken their side! Bloody crew. . . should of thrown all o' them overboard while I had the bloody chance." Jack's voice transformed into an incomprehensible mutter as he complained heatedly about his treatment. Sophia struggled to hide a smile.

"No, I won't tell them. You, Mr. Sparrow. . ." her smile widened as Jack's expression became even more infuriated as she used the title he hated most of all. ". . .have got to have some rest. I've brought you some food and I won't be leaving until you've eaten as much as you can hold."

Jack stared disgustedly down at the gruel as she handed it to him before glancing once more at her, and, seeing the determined expression upon her features, resigned silently. Sophia opted not to help him as he struggled clumsily with his left hand lest she enrage him yet more. After he had eaten most of the helping, she once more compensated the bowl and, placing the tray on the floor, knelt down beside him and began unwrapping the dressing that she had swathed around his chest the night before. As he flinched away, she issued him a sound swat against his bare bicep. "Stop moving. We've got to change the dressing anyways. Might as well check on it." Despite himself, Jack winced as the linen peeled from his skin with the crackle of dried blood. 

The night had been very difficult for Jack, for he was jolted awake whenever he shifted even a miniscule amount to the right. He now felt somewhat better, but his hope sank somewhat as he had a chance to view the wound. The skin around it was slowly turning red, and a proper scab had yet to form. Judging by the look on Sophia's face, she was not happy either.

Jack had been surprised by Sophia the night before, and had not expected her to remain so calm and unlike the spoiled ladies that Port Royal usually produced. Jack knew she had been scared, for her face had been drained of all color and her hands had shook, but she performed her task well. Now, as she bent over his bare chest, the ends of her hair slightly brushing across his motionless right arm and her lips open slightly in concentration, he thought her rather ethereal-looking. _Ethereal? You're goin' bloody soft, mate._

Well, she had saved his life, after all.

Sophia frowned as she studied Jack's injury. It didn't look to be healing correctly, and she guessed that there would be puss and fever within several days. Of course, she blamed herself for this, guessing that she had not done everything right. She'd skipped an important step. Glancing up at Jack, she tapped him on the sound part of his shoulder, for he seemed to be staring off into nothingness. 

"What would you suggest, Captain? After all, you are the surgeon here," she asked, and Jack turned towards her, his eyes immobile upon hers for several moments before flicking down to gaze at his wound.

"A wash with warm water would be my advice, love. 'Course, you could always jus' give me a wee rub on th' back and I'm sure that'd work jus' as well." Jack grinned wryly when Sophia shot him an ominous glare as she rose to make her way into the lavatory, searching for a cloth of some sort. 

"Always the same, that man. Insufferable. . ." she muttered distractedly, finally locating a wash rag and dousing it with warm water. Once again, she stooped to Jack's level and passed the cloth gently over the wound, squeezing slightly to allow the water to seep into it. Once that was finished, she found fresh linens piled at the foot of the bed for her to use and wrapped a new dressing. Jack poked gingerly at the firmly tied knots, nodding his approval. 

"Who taught you t' do this?" 

"My father did, a bit, although I'm afraid he didn't teach me very well. I always feel as if I'm doing something dreadfully wrong," Sophia admitted sheepishly, her fingers playing idly across a strip of the left over linens.

"You're doin' wonderfully, love. Why, a man would gladly pay for this kind o' treatment!" Leaning back on his perch at the headboard, Jack grinned cheekily at her, his eyes holding a suggestive spark.

"Yes, well don't expect anything more, Captain." Sophia's voice was dry as she discarded the used washcloth in the bathroom and picked up the tray to leave, shutting the door behind her with a resounding clap.

-

In the next six days as the Black Pearl sped swiftly into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean and further away from any sort of civilization, Jack's condition steadily worsened.

With the mutual agreement of the crew (seeing that no one else had the faintest idea what to do about him), the captain was left to Sophia's care. And so she calmed him in his half-delirious and fever induced surges of violence, in which he would spring unsteadily from the bed, semi-conscious, sweat streaming down the sides of his face, and scream curses and threats to whoever happened to be in the room, physically acting out the nightmares and past foes that he encountered in his fever dreams, only to collapse minutes later. Sophia soothed the pain of infection with cold compresses and gentle recitations of songs and poems that she didn't ever recall learning, although she must have picked them up someplace. She lent an encouraging hand when Jack reached blindly for something to grasp in the mists of his illness. 

But she was scared. Sophia hadn't the faintest idea what she could do, except for a procedure that her father had explained to her many years ago. Her stomach heaved just at the thought.

She had taken to rising several times within the night only to assure herself that Jack had not stopped breathing in the hours of her absence.

-

Sophia padded quietly across the empty deck of the Pearl. She guessed it was close to midnight, and the stillness that encompassed the night was so eerie that she actually hurried to the desolate atmosphere of her destination. 

She closed the door to Jack's cabin quietly behind her. The small room was warm and smelled of sickness.

Sophia had never really known that sickness had a smell, but she had discovered in the past several days that it was a hot, stifling scent laced with hints of human excrement and sweat that caused all those who detected it to nearly become sick themselves.    

The straw-stuffed mattress beneath Jack's motionless body was absolutely soaked with sweat. His face was so pale that Sophia's breath actually hitched and she fled to the bedside, her skirts fanning out around her as she knelt to listen to Jack's breathing, a shallow, pained sound that caused her heart to contract. Jack's eyes were closed, although she could see the movement of his eyeballs beneath the purple-tinged lids. She passed a hand over his forehead and drew back suddenly. He was like fire.

No, he was dying.

Sophia removed the sticky dressing and struggled to control the expression upon her face as the aroma of festering flesh wafted from the wound. Armed with her warm water and cloth, she set out to do her daily cleansing.

-

Jack's fever had begun with a faint flush, a slight dizziness, but later transformed into a menace that was as hot and smooth as metal in the sun. Soon, however, he didn't notice the fever. Jack was trapped in dreams, nightmares that his body was too weak to escape from. He existed in a hazy world of memories and concoctions of his own diseased brain. 

First, he relived his childhood, distant recollections of a time when his emotions were not so strictly checked, when a simple day at the beach meant a thousand adventures and explorations. He dreamed of days when his father was missing and his mother secluded, and he would play endless hours, sitting precariously astride a log and shouting orders to his "crewmates," growing tan and healthy in the sun.

Then the dreams became rougher, more violent. Shadows would come to life, blood would leap from the pavements on which it had been previously shed. Shed by his hand. A flick of the knife, a cocking of the gun, and blood would seep from wounds he inflicted. 

The worst was when he dreamed of her, the woman who'd broken him. Betrayed him and left him to bleed. It had been many years ago, when he was young and very naïve of the ways of her kind. He'd fallen hard for her, and, believing that she was trustworthy, confessed all of it, all the secrets, all the plans for everything. 

All throughout these dreams Jack was trying to break free, trying to break past the fuzzy white barrier that he knew kept reality, sanity, and liberation from his fingers.

He was so tired.

-

Sophia was nearly finished when Jack stirred, incomprehensible and slurred mutterings escaping from his cracked lips. She paused the soft (and painful, she was sure) probing of the sodden rag momentarily, her eyes easing from the wound to his face. She remained motionless for some time, listening to Jack's sporadic words and trying desperately to decipher their meaning. Then, hesitantly, she reached upwards to pass her fingertips across the hot dampness of his forehead. "Jack?" 

Without so much as a sound, Jack exploded into a series of surprisingly agile movements, leaping from the cot in which he had previously lain on and pinioning Sophia beneath him in a sprawling tangle of limbs. Sophia let out a startled squeak of surprise as her back collided sharply with the wooden planks of the floor and the large span of Jack's hand closed firmly around the column of her neck. His chest was bare, and Sophia could see the shifting of the muscles in his left arm and shoulder as he used them to support his weight. Jack had one knee pressed rigidly against her belly as to keep her from moving. Sweat was coursing down his face and chest, and his eyes were wide and his lips set in a firm line. She felt the familiar contraction of her stomach as her fear set in and instinctively thrashed her legs about in their limited space. 

Jack's hand tightened around her throat in punishment, and Sophia could see his body tremble with the effort of holding himself from collapsing on the ground. Before she could let out a glass-shattering scream, Jack spoke in a voice so low and full of unexpected hatred that it caused the muscles down her spine to quiver. 

"I'm going t' cut your bloody throat for wha' you did t' me, you whoring bitch."

Sophia stopped moving. _Why is he saying this?_ As if searching for answers that no one could give, she peered through the shadows into Jack's eyes. They were clouded, vacant, and seemed to look past her and at something or someone that only he could see. It was only then that she realized that Jack didn't know who he was speaking to. Sophia breathed in strangled gasps, her head becoming dangerously light due to the obstruction of her windpipe. "Jack. . . stop. Wake up. . ." Sophia's voice was a smothered whisper, but she was sure the pirate had heard her, for his eyes cleared and he tilted his head minutely to the left.

"Sophia? What. . .?" He began, his lips struggling to form the words he so searched for. 

Sophia watched silently as Jack's strength finally gave out, and he collapsed with a heavy thump against her. She was trapped beneath this hot, moist, and somewhat bloody body that was Jack.

-

After rolling the now unconscious Jack over and sliding out from under him, Sophia somehow managed to drag him back on the bed and tend to the wound once more, for it had broken open in his movement and was now profusely swollen. She'd had enough of this ridiculous nonsense. They had to get Jack some real help, for she was certain that he would die without a doctor.

Once out of Jack's cabin, she allowed herself to lean heavily against the outside wall, her gaze rising to the veiled stars in the dark sky, willing her breathing to return to its normal rate. When it did, more or less, she set out to Gibbs' cabin.

In response to her persistent rapping against his door, the old pirate swung it open, appearing very groggy and overall like he would thoroughly enjoy shooting anyone who disturbed him at this time of night. Ignoring these obvious omens, Sophia jammed her hands upon her hips and glowered at him in what she hoped was an exceedingly determined way. "You have got to turn this ship around right now."

Gibbs looked at her like she'd gone completely mad. "An' why would ye say tha', missy?"

"Jack is dying, Mr. Gibbs," she declared. Gibbs stepped back a bit, a bit taken aback that this woman, usually so optimistic, had all but given up.

"Wha'? But ye said tha' ye could take care o' 'im!"

"Yes, I _know_ what I said! But I can't. . . I can't _do_ this. There's only so much I know how to do, and I don't have the skill necessary save a man from certain death, Gibbs! Have you seen him? He needs a bloody doctor, not someone who's just picked up a couple of skills over time!" Sophia's eyes were flashing with a rarely seen desperation.

Gibbs' eyes lowered, and he heaved a great sigh, his shoulders collapsing gratefully against the doorframe. "Aye. I know," he said, defeated, and paused for several moments more before speaking. "We're near seven days from a friendly port."

"By seven days it. . .  it will have been to late." 

The pirate nodded slowly, unwilling to meet her anxious gaze. Sophia sighed, glancing upwards to quell the burning at the back of her eyes. _You're going to have to do it, Sophia. _

"There is something I could do. . .  It may just make things worse than they already are, but there is a chance. . ." she said, her voice a wavering note amidst the crashing of the waves.

Gibbs' eyes brightened slightly, his posture regaining its strength. "Well, why didn' you say so, lassie?"

-

Sophia sent Gibbs to wake Anamaria, for she would need a firm base of support to complete this procedure. She met them outside Jack's door. 

Her voice was very quiet when she spoke. "I'm going to need a long knife, a needle and strong thread, and hot water." Sophia swallowed, her gaze faltering. "Boiling. Yes, it should be boiling."

Anamaria and Gibbs glanced, perplexed, at one another, before dashing off to fetch Sophia's requests. With them gone, she slowly creaked open Jack's door, stepping silently inside and making her way to his bedside. She sat down shakily upon a free space on the mattress. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. The tears were coming, burning trails of salt over her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," she whispered.

Gibbs burst through the door, armed with various supplies, followed closely by Anamaria. Sophia rose, brushing off her dress with trembling fingers. Mutely, she took the knife, needle and thread, and pail of steaming water from the pair, setting them on the bed. She stood stationary for a long while, gazing with empty eyes at the floor. She couldn't help but remember what her father had said about what she was preparing to do.

"Don't perform this procedure, Sophia, unless the person will die anyway. It's very dangerous and should not be taken lightly, therefore nearly no one does it anymore. If something should go wrong, the results can be terrible. Now, the first step is to. . ."

Sophia visibly shuddered, so much so that Anamaria turned to Gibbs and was about to suggest that they not do this, but Sophia's movement stopped her. The trembling woman grasped the handle of the knife in a surprisingly firm grip, before spinning on her heel and addressing the two. "Will you two please hold his arms down? He will try to thrash a bit." Anamaria and Gibbs readily obeyed.

Sophia leaned over Jack's sweating form, placing a finger upon the inflamed side of his injury, studying its depth. Without further ado, she quickly eased the knife into Jack's flesh and right down past the base of the bullet wound. Anamaria let out a cry of surprise, and Jack released a heart-wrenching groan, his brow furrowing in his dreams and his legs jerking wildly. She could see the muscles in his arms strain as he tried to break free of the hold Gibbs and Anamaria so firmly had on him.

Sophia withdrew the knife, now smeared in yellow puss, and let it drop to the floor, before picking up the pail of water and allowing the steaming liquid to drip in a steady stream into the now enlarged opening of Jack's wound until it nearly overflowed onto the surface of his skin. The muscles in Jack's jaw were clenched, and Sophia could see that his body was rigid with pain. Anamaria reached out to stop her. "Sophia, wha' th' bloody 'ell are you –"

Sophia flinched away from her hand, setting the water on the floor. "The hot water destroys whatever is making him this way, Anamaria. I had to use the knife to open the wound," she explained, her voice monotone.

Anamaria grew silent, and Sophia set to work sewing up the laceration, her face carefully expressionless. Once she had finally finished, she wrapped a new dressing around the wound, ran out of the cabin, and promptly vomited numerous times over the side of the ship.

In the morning, Jack's fever had all but disappeared.

-

A/N: Oh, that was gross, but if you think about it, that little trick Sophia pulled would actually work. I promise this will be the yuckiest of the chapters. 

Anyway, muchos gracias for my reviewers! I absolutely lurve you all.

The "as hot and smooth as metal in the sun" sentence was taken from a poem called "My Mother Remembers the Spanish Influenza" by Ratti, just to let you know :)

Next chapter, you ask? Our lovely little crew is on the way to Calcutta!

Ouuuuch! I just ripped about half my nail off trying to break off a piece of chocolate from a positively massive bar of the stuff. Ooooo it hurts like a bitch. Must go find a band-aid. 


	11. The Way to India

Chapter: The Way to India

-

- Port Royal - 

Commodore Norrington did not like being out of control. He liked to know exactly what was occurring at every moment and he especially liked to know his surroundings.

He didn't like surprises.

Perhaps this was why he insisted on returning to Port Royal to gather provisions instead of stocking up at a more convenient port that would most likely be infested with pirates and the like. Or maybe he just wanted to see his wife. He did love Sophia.

And so the beautiful Dauntless sailed into Port Royal on one bright Sunday amidst a growing throng of people wishing to welcome its crew. Norrington stepped off the gangplank and onto the docks of his town, his eyes searching for her amongst the crowd. He didn't see her. 

Two lieutenants who trotted briskly up to him jolted Norrington from his thoughtful state. They saluted before the man on the right spoke. "Sir, I'm afraid we have some bad news. You're wife. . ." He hesitated.

Norrington tensed, the pale blue of his eyes searching the man's face frantically. "What's happened?" He questioned, his voice anxious.

"She's gone missing, sir."

"Gone missing?" His voice was panicked.

"Yes," the man said, looking acutely uncomfortable in a situation in which his commodore would be so affected by the news he brought. "She disappeared several weeks ago. She was last known to have contact with William Turner on the day of Elizabeth Turner's funeral."

Within five minutes, Norrington and a host of military men were at Will's door, rapping rapidly on the polished wood until the confused young man answered the door with baby Elizabeth in his arms. The commodore wasted no time with frivolities. "Where is my wife, Mr. Turner?"

Will stood still for several moments, simply too shocked by the sudden appearance of a horde of men at his door, before slowly voicing his confusion. "I don't know, I'm afraid. Has she gone off somewhere?"

Norrington fixed the young man with a cold stare, stepping into the house and brushing past Will as he did so. "May we come in?" he asked rhetorically. As the group of red-clad men followed their commodore inside, Norrington suddenly noticed that there was no brilliantly smiling face and warm welcomes from a former Miss Swann. He thought briefly back to the news the two lieutenants had brought him. _". . . on the day of Elizabeth's funeral."_  The realization hit him like a sledgehammer bearing a sharp point of pain, and he turned to Will who was meekly rocking the fussy child within his arms. A nameless maid came and took the baby from her father. Norrington was thankful to have the young man's full attention. 

"I'm terribly sorry about your wife, Mr. Turner. . . Elizabeth was a wonderful woman," Norrington offered quietly.

Will looked up briefly, surprised by the commodore's sudden change of tone, but nonetheless nodded. "Yes, she was." 

The men in the room were immersed in an uncomfortable silence before Norrington regained his businesslike tone. "Did Sophia give you any indication that she knew she would be disappearing?"

Will shook his head. "Not at all. She was very good to me after Elizabeth died, but wasn't acting any differently than normal," he explained, before pausing as if to consider a hazy memory.

"Yes, Mr. Turner?" Norrington questioned hastily.

Gazing at the group of men uncertainly, Will spoke in a quiet and hesitant manner. "Perhaps there was one thing. . .  Several days before Elizabeth's funeral I had. . ." Will faltered, his eyes widening slightly as he realized his misstep. ". . .a visitor while your wife was here. She acted strangely and had a flash of temper. I've never seen her behave as she did then."

Norrington tried to imagine his wife having a "flash of temper," and was utterly unsuccessful after several tries. "I see. Who was the visitor, then?" he asked.

At this, Will crossed his arms over his chest and gazed coolly at the group of men. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that," he stated firmly.

Norrington flashed the boy an icy smile. "You do realize that withholding information from a member of the king's navy is a crime, do you not, Mr. Turner?" He paused, allowing the sobering effect of his words echo about the room. "Now, I'm going to ask you one last time. Who was your 'visitor'?" 

Will lifted his chin. "I've already told you that I will not say. All you need to know is that he is a good man."

For some reason, this sparked something in Norrington's memory. It was many years ago, but he could still remember the day of the beginning of his humiliation.

_"He's a pirate!"_

_"And a good man."_

Clarity dawned in Norrington's eyes, and in response Will fidgeted uncomfortably, realizing that he must have said too much. 

"Sparrow," the commodore hissed, "it must be." Jumping into action, Norrington moved quickly to from the house and into the bright sunlight outside, ignoring Will's protesting sputters. 

The events that must have occurred were slowly unraveling in Norrington's mind. Sparrow must have come, seen Sophia, and kidnapped her _again _after the funeral, probably hoping for a fine ransom. This would explain Sophia's rare lapse of temper, for who wouldn't be irked if their kidnapper had emerged again after four years?

Norrington's eyes narrowed into fiery slits. He would hunt Sparrow down.

The pirate was going to die by his hand.

-

- Aboard the Black Pearl - 

Five days or so after the retreat of Jack's fever, the stubborn captain was up and about once more, despite Sophia's protests. Thus, Jack was standing at the helm on the morning that Sophia had had enough of the uncertainty of the voyage so far.

Sophia strode purposefully to stand abreast of the captain, poking him firmly on the shoulder to gain his attention. "Just what are you planning to do with me, Captain? I can't very well roam about this ship until the end of my days, now can I?"

Jack winced slightly. She had poked his right shoulder, and the injury was still a might tender. Ignoring his discomfort, he shot her an easy grin, leaning his shoulder against the wheel to steady it in their conversation. "Ah, now tha' is a bit o' a problem, innit?"

Sophia sighed. "Yes, it is. And what is the great Captain Jack Sparrow going to do about it?"

"Hold on, love, I'm getting t' that," Jack said, his grin widening as Sophia tapped her fingertips against her thigh in impatience. "After we raid Calcutta, I'll take you home, savvy? Jus' think o' this as a new adventure."

"I had enough of those last time, Captain Sparrow," Sophia muttered.

"You know, Sophia, I'd be perfectly comfortable with you callin' me Jack, seein' as we've known each other's company for quite some time now." Jack gazed at her with dark eyes, allowing his form to sway slightly with the movement of the ship in a sort of cocky swagger.

"I think I'll remain true to the old ways, Captain." Sophia paused. "You really should be in bed."

Jack scowled, turning from her and replacing both hands on the wheel of his ship. He had regained much of the movement in his right arm, although it still pained him to move it in sharp motions. "Why's tha'? So you can keep your eye on me? Honestly, love, I'm startin' t' think you've fallin' 'ead over heels for me." He flitted his eyes sideways to rest upon her face, casting her a look of mock concern.

Sophia turned, intending to simply abandon him and his half-pathetic attempts at flirting without a word, but was stopped by a weather worn hand at her elbow. "I never really 'ad a chance t' thank you, Sophia. . . for wha' you did for me. I. . ." Jack stumbled over the right words, his gaze faltering upon her face. 

Sophia waved her hand flutteringly in dismissal, her eyes turning towards the sea. "Don't worry, Captain. Just remember that when I am in need of a favor." 

Jack nodded, his smug grin once more compensating his features. "Aye," he bowed mockingly, "I am in your debt, my lady."

"You'd do well to remember that, as well," Sophia reminded him, turning to leave and enduring a swift pat on the rump from Jack as she walked away.

She seriously considered administering the same punishment that the whores in various ports gave him whenever he crossed their paths: a slap across the face.

But she'd already done that.

-

It seemed to Sophia that they were at sea for a year, at least. Each day came and went with sickeningly standard cycles: wake up, some sort of chore, useless banter with Jack, and sleep. Jack claimed that they had only been traveling for about two months, but Sophia didn't believe him.

It was driving Sophia insane.

Whenever she had the chance, Sophia remained in her cabin. She had scrubbed and furnished the tiny room until it shone like new, and she was quite proud of it. But this day, a month and one week from their departure from Port Royal exactly, Sophia burst from her cabin in the dusky hours of the morning and marched directly towards Jack, who stood at the helm of the Pearl, quiet and detached.

"How much longer can it _possibly _be, Captain? We've been at sea for –"

Sophia froze.

Land. She could see land

They were not far from the shore. Sophia could quite easily make out small, brown children playing on the shore, their mothers balancing woven pots on their heads. 

Jack glanced at the now silent woman at his side, amusement dancing within the dark caverns of his eyes. It had been a long time at sea, and even he would admit to being gladdened by this sight of land. Sophia was staring at the brown strip of shore, mouth slightly agape in her shock. A genuine smile playing at Jack's lips, he turned to address her. "Welcome t' th' gold coast, love. I suppose you never thought you'd see Africa, eh?"

Sophia only shook her head. For once, she could think of nothing to say.

-

"Please?"

"No."

Sophia paused, for several moments allowing Jack to believe that she had finally given up and resigned to her fate, but soon started up again with as much fervor as before. "_Please!_"

"For th' last bloody time, woman, absolutely _not_!"

"I have been stuck on this blasted ship for months, Captain! Will you not let me come ashore for even a minute? I wish to feel something besides the swaying of a ship beneath my feet," she pleaded, her eyes plastered on Jack as he tightened the ropes and performed other captainly duties. 

Now that they had docked at a miniscule port that seemed to have no name and Sophia had actually smelled the scent of baking earth beneath the hot sun, her urge to walk and be on land again had been almost overwhelming. She did not wish to hear the crashing of the sea or smell its distinct salty spray anymore. 

Jack straightened to his full height and glared down his nose at the determined woman, his arms crossing casually over his chest. His tallness infuriated Sophia, for she was left to stand with the top of her head just passing his shoulder, and even then it was not by much.

Jack was rather enjoying Sophia's rare lapse of poise. She stood still as she awaited his reply, hands on her hips and cheeks flushed in the dry heat of the African coast. Of course, as it would be hell tramping about a ship for a month or so in a proper dress, she had borrowed Anamaria's less than ladylike style of clothing, and Jack was enjoying a very unobstructed view down her shirt at that moment.

Sophia gasped as she noticed the destination of Jack's gaze, and clapped a hand to her bosom, thoroughly scandalized. "If you were of a somewhat brighter nature you would have discovered by now that I am not one of your bloody conquests, Captain. _Do not _think that you can disrespect me in such a manner and get away with it!"

Jack cracked a grin at that, lifting his right arm, as his injury had healed almost completely by that time, to brush a finger down the length of her face, pushing one of the black curls of hair from her cheek. Sophia flinched. "I never said I expected t' get 'way with it, did I?" Jack leaned in close to her, his lips nearly touching Sophia's ear. "You can punish me tonight, love." 

Sophia drew quickly away, pressing a hand to Jack's sternum and pushing with enough force to cause him to step back. "_You_, Jack Sparrow, are disgraceful and. . . and. . . I hate you." Sophia winced at the childishness of her insult, but stood steadfast anyway. 

"No you don't, darlin'." The reply came too quickly and smartly for her liking.

"Yes, I do!" Sophia turned from him, and, seeing as the crew had already begun to unload onto the rickety-looking dock of this African port, hurried down the ramp and onto steady ground. Sophia was surprised to find herself swaying precariously as she set foot on the dock, and would have fallen right onto her bottom if a pair of strong arms, Jack's arms, had not caught her. 

Sophia pushed away from Jack, who still held her tight around the waist as he righted her balance. "What are you –"

"You've got sea-legs, love," Jack explained, his arms finally releasing her. To her disgust, she had to place a hand on his shoulder in order not to fall down _again _as they began walking back to the ship. Wait, back to the ship. . . ?

"No! Ja-ack! Please let me stay! I only want to walk around for a time," Sophia said, slightly shocked at the whiny quality to her voice. And she'd forgotten to call him Captain.

Jack stopped, heaving a great sigh, but as he turned Sophia could see in his eyes that she had won. _Bloody woman. _He hated being manipulated. "Fine. But only for a wee bit, savvy?" 

"Savvy." Sophia smiled, really smiled, for the first time in weeks, and Jack found himself staring, his eyes smoky against the bronze of his skin, amazed at how the contours of her face changed so drastically. She absolutely shone. Oblivious to Jack's predicament, Sophia turned and began walking towards the small cluster of buildings. It took him several moments before he could gather his composure enough to follow her.

"And Jack? I. . .  I don't really hate you."

-    

Jack took one look inside the sole and noisy tavern of the tiny port and shook his head, beads chinking against the sides of his face, and returned into the sunlight, taking Sophia firmly by the shoulders to lead her away from the dilapidated building. "You can't go in there, love."

Sophia stood her ground. The brief euphoria of being on land once more dissipated as a dominating presence in Jack's temperament spurred her annoyance. "Why ever not, Captain?" She questioned, her gaze meeting his steadily.

She swore she saw Jack roll his eyes. 

"Because, lass, there is not a wench t' be seen inside tha' tavern. This means tha' none o' those men 'ave seen a pretty thing like you for months, an' I'm sure once they've got you in their sights they won't be nearly as courteous as me crew," Jack explained, slightly monotone. The captain looked weary, Sophia noticed, but his eyes were as bright as ever, gleaming within their eerie darkness. Sophia shivered.

"Don't be ridiculous." Sophia broke away from Jack's hold on her shoulder, striding briskly towards the door and swinging it open roughly on its hinges. "I'm sure –" Sophia froze, her wide eyes taking in the various occupants of the bar. It seemed to Sophia that every pair of eyes swiveled to land upon her body, in many more inappropriate places than not. Rough seamen, unlawful scallywags, grimy cabin boys. . . All turned to gaze at her lecherously. Sophia found herself trembling helplessly as their leering gazes slid with obvious sluggishness down her body, lingering on her breasts, waist, thighs, hips.

_Bloody 'ell_. Jack cursed, at both Sophia and himself for allowing her to be so foolish. Quick as the attack of a cutlass, he grasped Sophia by the elbow and jerked her out of each greedy man's gaze. And then they were running, Jack dragging Sophia, who was silent in her shock.

Finally, Sophia regained the use of her voice, and dug her heels into the dirt of the road, jolting them both to a stop. "What the bloody hell is the hurry, Jack? It's not as if they're chasing us now," she said, loudly so that the captain would have no choice but to hear her.

Jack turned to her with the jerky movements that Sophia was beginning to associate with anger when it came to this man, his eyes flashing as he took her by the shoulders once again and shook slightly. Sophia's eyes widened, the bleak grayness of her irises standing out harshly against her pale skin. Jack opened his mouth as if intending to speak, but instead let out a grunt of annoyance and then they were off and running again.

The two had nearly made it back to the Pearl when Sophia felt herself being wrenched from her path. She yelped shrilly in surprise but the sound was muffled as a meaty hand closed over her lips.

Nevertheless, Jack heard her, sliding to a stop and whirling about to face a band of five or so men, Sophia struggling helplessly in the encasement of the largest man's arms. Jack took in the situation silently, his eyes growing increasingly dark and stormy with the anger that slid seductively through his muscles. The man had Sophia in a tight hold around the waist, his hands exploring her body in such a way that caused Jack's blood to boil. The helpless woman was staring at Jack through panicked eyes that gazed at him over the top of a large hand covering her mouth.

Sophia watched as Jack stood silent, his mouth set in a grim line and his body tense and ready with anticipation. She could see the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench, again and again. Her focus was distracted as the man behind her squeezed her breast painfully, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She felt as if she was going to throw up. 

Looking at Jack once more, anger welled in her chest as the captain did nothing but watch the situation that played out before him. _He can't just leave me here!_

She wouldn't let this happen to her again.

She was scared, her knees shaky and face white. She remembered, even after all these years, what rape was like. The intrusion, the disgust, the violation she felt.

The man was whispering foul images into her ear, his breath disgustingly sticky over her neck. His friends were laughing nervously in response to Jack's utter stillness.

Without notice, Jack whipped out the sword that was strapped securely to his hip, and as quick as lightening had the tip of it positioned at the fat gullet of the man that held Sophia. She could see its gleaming edge shimmer just over her head. 

Gone was the usual playfulness that Jack's voice held when he encountered such situations as these. His eyes were cold and flecked with ire. "You'd do well t' let th' lady go, mate."

The man let out a dry laugh. "Lessee. . . don' think I want to. She's such a pretty one, she is, an' us boys 'aven't seen a strumpet like 'er for an age," he croaked as his hands traveled lower then they should, his sausage fingers grasping clumsily at her inner thigh. Sophia gasped.

Jack couldn't help but allow his mouth to quirk slightly as Sophia stomped down hard on the man's foot, much as she had done the night Jack had kidnapped her for the first time, save for now she was wearing heavy boots instead of slippers. Her captor let out a howl, releasing her and hopping about on one foot. In any other situation it would have been comical.

Jack took the opportunity to draw his sword from the man's neck and punch him full on the face. A sickening crunch sounded through the air and the man fell to the dusty road, dead to the world with blood streaming from his nose.

The other men grew silent, and Sophia stared in horror at the unconscious man. Jack didn't blink, and pointed the long blade of his sword at the remainder of the group. "Now, unless you men want t' end up like your friend, 'ere, I suggest you run along, savvy?" Jack hissed through his teeth, his brow furrowed as he scrutinized the men.

Sophia let her eyes wander to the captain. He really was a frightening sight, she noted disconnectedly. Jack stood with his feet wide apart, his eyes black with fury and dreadlocks in disarray. Sophia could see the lean muscles of his frame tense as he flicked the edge of the sword once more at the men, motioning for them to leave.

They turned and ran.

Jack sighed, sheathing his sword and stalking over to where Sophia stood mutely. Lifting her chin, he gazed earnestly into her eyes, noting the fear that hid within their steely depths. Dropping his hand to her shoulder, he stroked the skin at her neck with a rough thumb comfortingly. Sophia suppressed a shutter at the unfamiliar touch and the flutter it sent through her gut.

"You alrigh', love?" Jack asked quietly, the anger portrayed upon his face slowly receding. Sophia nodded slightly, still silent, and Jack hummed a faint murmur of recognition in his throat. He took Sophia gently by the arm and led her back to the Pearl.

Back to safety.

-

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long, you guys! I'm just swamped with a load of useless crap right now. Chapters should start coming more frequently now, though.

Okay, I think the subject of reviews might need to be addressed, although I feel so terrible doing it. 

So one day I wake up and there's like sixty review notices in my inbox, all of which I am fairly sure come from the same anonymous reviewer, seeing as all the names and reviews are very similar. If this isn't the case I'm sorry and it's not like I'm complaining or anything (in fact, I'm glad you like my little story so much) but next time one or two reviews will suffice instead of sixty. But I appreciate it very much anyway! (Haha, nice contradicting myself. Erk. . . I hope that doesn't sound to bad or unreasonable. Eee. . .)

For those who are asking about romance between Jack and Sophia: I'm terribly sorry if anyone was hoping for hot sweaty sex or love right off the bat, but you guys are just gonna have to wait and see (or read, as the case may be)! I've decided that Jack, while he would certainly consider having his way with Sophia within a second, would be infinitely less likely to fall in love so quickly, if at all. HOWEVER, this fic is rated "action adventure/_romance_" for a reason. 

Next chapter? Haha, not gonna tell you. I'm so mean.


	12. Chamberlin Manor

Chapter: Chamberlin Manor

-

Jack propped one shoulder against the doorframe of Sophia's tiny cabin, arms folded across his chest, watching the eerily silent woman as she sat sedately upon the bed. She had not made a sound in their entire walk back to the ship. 

Sophia's mind was numb. She could still feel the man's fingers on her skin, and stared vacuously at the floor in an effort to rid the nauseating sense from her brain. She heard Jack shift his position awkwardly, and his brow was creased with worry as he spoke. "Sophia?"

Her name. It was said in the deep, gravely slur that was Jack. He was here, with her. He could save her from this darkness, the black unknown of her memories. 

Sophia visibly started as she broke from the beginnings of another 'attack of nightmares,' as she had begun calling it, causing the bed to creak in protest beneath her. She lifted her eyes, wide with fear and shock, to Jack's.

Jack inhaled sharply, sucking the air through his teeth. Sophia looked much as she did the night he'd first seen her hair, both fear and innocence overriding the delicacy of her face to create a pale picture of utter desolation. His chest contracted with the memory of that night and also the reality that Sophia was completely and utterly alone on his ship.

Indeed, it must have been terrible for her, Jack realized then, to have her most dreadful experience nearly played out once again before her helpless eyes. Those men would have taken her body and run with it, broken it.

Jack had no sympathy for rapists. 

Silently and with uncertainty, he stepped into the room and sat down beside Sophia on the bed, drawing the slender woman into the sanctuary of his arms with slow and deliberate motions so he would not startle her. There was nothing else he could do. She would have been left alone to her chimera, the terrible menace that was her nightmares.

Jack was beginning to understand the habits of Sophia's memories. A particularly traumatic event in the present that related to her defilement would spur flashes of her rapist, feelings of his hands breaching her personal space, her body. Flashes of fear.

He knew that she had nearly given herself into them again before he had spoken, and so now he held her as if saving her once again from their dark crevasse. He was keeping her from falling.

Sophia curled against the security of Jack's body as his arms wrapped firmly around her, turning her body as to face him full on and press her forehead into his shoulder, hard and safe. She felt him gather her more tightly into the embrace, and reached her arms upwards to drape around his shoulders, clinging vulnerably to the strength of his form, finding shelter against the flat plane of his chest. She felt the vibration of his voice as he murmured a near-silent word of comfort. 

Sophia finally let herself cry, the suppressed sobs causing her body to shake in Jack's hold.

She was breaking down, she could feel her walls of strength crumbling with each tear that fell from her eyes, and yet she brushed away the embarrassment of being so vulnerable in Jack's presence. Now, she needed to cry, wash the black terror from her body. She needed to be clean.

Jack rested his chin against the top of Sophia's head, allowing his fingers to trail with a whispering touch down the onyx curls of her hair, stroking their softness briefly, before coming to rest at the small of her back. Jack ignored the discomfort welling in his chest. He'd never _really _held a woman to his chest solely to console her before, nor had he ever had any contact with Sophia as intimate as it was now.

She smelled of water. Not the water of the sea that Jack was so accustomed to, but the kind of water that flowed like Chinese silk across rocks and down waterfalls to finally rest in a lake so utterly still that it reflected even the clouds in the sky. She smelled of a day walking in the wet, mossy forests that Jack remembered from his childhood. She smelled of the lilac that his mother had placed in a vase on the table on Easter day when he was seven years old. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled.

Sophia's tears eventually slowed and her breathing calmed into a soothing pattern, the thoughts of rape gradually subsiding into a shadowed threat at the back of her mind. She let herself simply lean against Jack, her cheek pillowed against his shoulder, and the captain seemed perfectly content to allow her to do so.

After some time, Jack cleared his throat gruffly, breaking the silence that had grown increasingly uncomfortable now that Sophia had calmed herself, and cupped his palms around her shoulders to draw her back and take a good look at her. Wetness still shimmered in her eyes but she refused to allow it to spill down the pale hue of her cheeks. Jack lifted a thumb to wipe away a stray tear that quivered unsteadily at her jaw.

"Alrigh', love?" he said quietly, the deep lilt of his voice further more shattering her confidence. _He must think I'm a blubbering lunatic. . . _

Sophia nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands that twisted together in her lap. "Thank you, Jack," she murmured, brushing the hair that obstructed her features behind her ears.

Jack had the sudden and unexplainable urge to lift her chin with the gentle touch of his fingers and kiss her long and proper, kiss away her pain, and his eyes traveled briefly to the soft pink tint of her lips. However, he thrust the idea aside, making a noncommittal sound in his throat and waving a hand extravagantly in dismissal as a response to her thanks, before rising from his seated position. He was nearly out the door when the clear tone of Sophia's voice addressed him.

"And Captain, could we please get as far away from this port as possible by nightfall?" She wanted away from this place, away from the memories that swamped her brain, suffocated her.

Jack nodded imperceptibly. "Aye, lass. I suppose tha' could be arranged."

-

India's green coast glittered enticingly in front of Sophia's eyes as she leaned over the railing of the ship, inhaling the scent of land, freshly rained upon and very adequately covered with foliage. She tried not to look at the ocean, painful and frightening, below her.

Her days on the ship had become easy and relaxed, and many members of the crew were becoming fast friends of hers. Anamaria was her sole feminine companion with who she could confess her tribulations, and Thandor was always a joy, his youthful vigor inspiring to the rest of the crew. 

Jack, however, she had not had much contact with. Besides rare run-ins on the Pearl's deck while people scurried about their duties around them, they had not spoken much at all. Sophia remained in her cabin for a majority of the time and dined with the crew.

It was for this reason that when the captain swayed over to stand beside her, his dark eyes flicking appraisingly over the landscape, she was surprised. Prying her gaze from the terrain, Sophia turned her head towards him, her elbow resting upon the railing and her chin placed lazily in her palm.

"Tha's a sight for sore eyes, is it not?" He offered, glancing at her sideways briefly and halting his characteristic hand movements that Sophia was beginning to become accustomed to. She nodded silently. Realizing that she was not going to speak, Jack continued, "'S a pity you won't be setting foot upon it."

She had not walked upon land since their stop at Africa. Sophia lowered her eyelids.

So Jack knew that she was too weak to conquer her fear. Nevertheless, all was perfectly fine and dandy, save for the swell of humiliation in her gut and an embarrassing flush on her cheeks. _Perfectly_ fine.

Sophia took a deep breath before speaking. "Yes. It is."

-

Calcutta was a city of gray colors and impossible amounts of people. After gazing, fascinated, at the bustling docks and broken-down ships, Sophia went to find Jack. The captain was standing at the helm, feeding his crew last-minute instructions for the raid. Sophia strained to hear, but her attempt was foiled by the noise of the port.    

As the pirates dispersed, their parting accompanied by loud shouts of glee and anticipation, Sophia caught Jack by the arm, demanding his attention. "You've never told me what place it is that you are robbing, Captain. I would think, as it is that I am indeed on your blasted ship and I could face the consequences of your actions just as easily as you could, I should be as informed as the rest of your crew."

Jack grinned, his eyes already glinting with the thrill of an oncoming invasion. He thoroughly enjoyed Sophia when she was in one of her fiery and argumentative moods. She was a worthy opponent, and seemed to always have a swift and witty reply on hand to whatever he may conjure in their conversations. "Aye, tha' you should. This, however, is one thing tha' you mustn't worry your pretty 'ead about. We'll be back in due time," he replied with the cocky tone that infuriated her so, before reverting to the businesslike tone he used when giving orders. "I've told Andrew and Caliso t' look after you in me absence, savvy?"

Sophia bristled. "I am perfectly capable of –"

"I know, love. You forget tha' this is Calcutta, land o' unlawful tradesmen and thieves tha' wouldn't think twice about snatchin' you right off this ship and sellin' you into the slave market. Pretty thing like you would go for a high price." Jack interrupted, his tone serious despite the faint makings of a smile at the corner of his mouth. This infuriated her to an even greater extent, yet she remained silent, disgusted that he had managed to frighten her into submission.

And so Sophia spent the night playing cards with Andrew and Caliso while Jack and his crew were out pilfering the countryside. She lost.

-

Sophia was jolted from her slumber by deafening whoops and clunks coming from outside her door. Groaning with annoyance and rubbing her eyes to rid them of the dry quality that sleep had brought, she threw open the door, her mouth promptly falling open in shock. 

Paintings, chests of treasure and the like, and clothing were strewn in a disordered mess about the ship as it sped effortlessly away from Calcutta. The raid, it seemed, had been successful.

"Oy, Sophia! Lookie 'ere!" Thandor swooped towards her with a jubilant strut, taking her around the waist to lead her in a funny sort of jig, much to her surprise. "Riches an' treasure an' dresses for you! Wha' a lovely night it is!" The young man shouted gleefully as they picked their way through the bounty.

Sophia couldn't help but smile, relaxing into the easy rhythm of Thandor's dance. "It is indeed. You have had something to drink, have you not?" She asked wryly. She could smell alcohol on his breath.

"Th' drink o' th' gods, my lovely!" he replied, before finally releasing her to find some more of said drink. Sophia stumbled about for a moment trying to regain her balance after such a rigorous activity, laughing to the heavens with a joy she never would have guessed she held.

"Enjoying yourself, love?" The slur of Jack's voice penetrated her delight-riddled state and forced some sort of composure to return to her senses. She spun on her heel to face him as he sat, sprawled across the stairs that led up to the spiked wheel that controlled the ship. He'd draped strings of pearls and beads over his neck, stuck various rings on his fingers, and now held a jeweled goblet that sloshed with what she could only assume was rum. 

Sophia ignored his question, instead asking one of her own. "You stole all of this?"

"Pirates never _steal_, darlin'. Pilfer, plunder, loot, commandeer. . . Aye, but never steal," he corrected her, sitting up to prop himself up on his elbows, gazing at her beneath heavy eyelids, one finger held up as if scolding.

"Very well. . . You _pilfered _all of this, then?"

"O' course!" Jack responded cheerfully, taking another generous swig of rum.

Sophia let out a meek "oh" and knelt down to explore the swag. Jack watched through an alcohol-induced haze as she ran her fingertips over the latch of a chest, along a length of a gold chain, over the floaty fabric of a yellow dress, entranced by the movements she made as she bestowed a gentle touch upon these items. Her hand froze over the frame of a particularly striking painting of an attractive woman in a powder-blue dress.

Sophia craned her head to read the engraving on the frame. A name. _Patience Chamberlin_.

Her jaw dropped. Whirling about to face Jack with her hands planted firmly upon her hips, she glared crossly at him. Jack looked up at her, flashing a lopsided grin from his reclined position on the stairs. "Wha' is it, love?"

"You robbed Chamberlin Manor?" she sputtered incredulously.

The Chamberlin family was well known as one of the wealthiest families ever to grace English soil, or any other soil for that matter. They were also known for catching the thieves that stole from them before the authorities did and inflicting much more severe punishments than officials ever would dream of doing. It seemed that at least a part of them had migrated to India, England's newest and most promising colony.  

Jack's grin widened. Hoisting himself off the deck, he swaggered over to stand beside Sophia. "'S quite a nice place, actually. Masses o' guards. We 'ad a rough time gettin' 'round them," he said in a light tone, hands circulating and fluctuating to accentuate his point.

Through her shock, Sophia watched the gentle oscillation of Jack's body, marveling at how completely comfortable he was with the pitching and rolling of the ship, even while drunk. The striped length of cloth tied around his waist swung hypnotically against his legs.

"You are mad, Captain Sparrow. Absolutely raving," She found herself replying as she turned to stalk unsteadily back to her cabin.

"Undeniably!" His voice.

She was too tired to respond to Jack's joyful declaration.

-

A/N: Little shorter than some previous chapters, but I did write this in about two hours, so this is what you get.

Aww, the first Jack and Sophia cuddle. It's so nice.

I know all you people are probably screaming at the computer right now for me to get on with the story. I PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE that in the next chapter the major mystery will be solved and the REAL plot will begin. (Mwaha, twelve chapters of exposition. I'm a little muddled in the head, as you may have guessed. We'll call it character development.) 

You haven't forgotten Sophia's not so irrational fear of water and cryptic markings, have you?


	13. Riddles of Master Cuthburt

Chapter: Riddles of Master Cuthburt and His Daughter 

-

Journeys all came to an end eventually, Gibbs told her as she gazed with a faintly sorrowful expression at the winking lights of Tortuga in the distance. Sophia knew that if they were close to docking at the raucous pirate town, they were not very far from Port Royal. The name Tortuga cast a foreboding shadow in the back of Sophia's mind for reasons no one but she knew. No one. Only she was _allowed_ to know.

She was not as excited as she thought she would be to return to her hometown, return to her husband. She'd grown used to the gentle sway of the ship at night, the sunshine and salty spray in the day. She'd also become more used to the Black Pearl's captain then she would like to admit. 

This is not to say the Sophia did not miss James. He was a wonderful man who did not deserve to be treated as she had been treating him. She'd left without notice, without any assurance that she was not lost forever. She was working very hard now in the night to quell the swelling of guilt in her gut. 

Perhaps it was for the best that she was leaving this freedom. In several days she would leave the Black Pearl.__

-

It dawned upon Sophia as she stared at the rough hillside that Tortuga was built upon that she would most likely never see Jack again after she was dropped off at Port Royal.

It was true that she and the captain had formed a sort of mutual truce (Perhaps friendship? She did not know.) in the past month or so of their return journey. He did not intrude upon her thoughts, her fears, her space, and she kept the same distance with him. Despite the frequent wandering of Jack's eyes to places they shouldn't be and Sophia's indignant responses, the two enjoyed relaxed conversations over the midday meal. Jack told her of his multitude of adventures, Sophia interjecting occasionally to add tidbits of information or an opinion on the locations he described.  

Sophia realized that she would miss him.

-

"Would you be so kind as to remind me why we are stopping here?"

Jack sighed, casting Sophia the exasperated look of a mother confronting a disobedient child. Sophia raised a hand to her lips to hide her smile, dismayed that his expression had foiled her oh so disagreeable mood. 

"Have I ever given you a reason not t' trust me, Sophie?" Jack urged with a knowing grin. He was well aware that Sophia despised her newly adopted nickname.

Her smile quickly dissipated and she crossed her arms over her chest, watching Jack as he wandered about inside his cabin from her stance at the doorway. "Yes."

Jack picked up a coin, a string of pearls, and a tiny, framed painting, all from the recent collection of swag, and slipped them inside his jacket. "Suppose you're righ', then," he resigned cheerfully, before continuing. "Tortuga's th' best town in th' Caribbean t' have your treasures an' such verified, savvy? I like t' have me swag proved o' its worth." He shot her a suggestive smirk, as he lowered the pitch of his voice into what she supposed he thought was a seductive tone. Sophia rolled her eyes.

After finally finding what he needed and preparing to exit his cabin and into the night air, Jack looked up to find Sophia eyeing him from the doorway. He brushed passed her when he walked out of the room, and was surprised to find her pick up her own pace to trail behind him silently as he strolled towards the ramp that led to the docks. With a sly abruptness, he whirled around on his heel too face her. Sophia nearly collided into his chest. "Wha' are you doin', Sophie?" He questioned, the usual twinkle still present within his eyes despite the somewhat demanding tone to his voice.

"I'm coming with you."

Jack fell silent for a brief time, peering into her face through the impending darkness. "You're sure, then?"

Sophia exhaled, clasping her hands in front of her. She wasn't going to let him see her trembling. She had not set foot upon land for nearly a month and a half. Sophia nodded, shoving the image of that lone African port from her mind. 

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be afraid of something your entire life, Jack?" 

"O' course I do, love! All th' rum dissapearin', me Pearl bein' stolen, Tortuga sinkin' into th' sea. . ." he trailed off distractedly, visibly shuddering at his thoughts.

Sophia narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't suppose you do."

She walked past him and down the gangplank, leaving Jack to stare after her incredulously.

-

If Sophia had thought Nassau Port had been bad, Tortuga was three times worse. Drunks littered the muddy streets, prostitutes hung idly at the entrances of taverns and brothels, and dirty pirates and merchants staggered tastelessly through the alleyways. Sophia was, at the least, very jumpy.

But for now, she had momentarily forgotten her uneasiness, and stood on the side of the road, doubled over from the cramps in her belly and laughing to the high heavens. 

Jack tromped over, scowling. "'S not bloody funny," he grumbled, grasping her shoulder and jerking her upright to lead her in their direction of travel.

Sophia calmed herself, but still occasionally burst out in giggles and snorts. "But. . . but _four_, Jack! Four women! And right in a row like that! It has to be some sort of record." The image of Jack's face quickly turning from joyful exuberance to that of a pouting two year old flashed into her mind again and she promptly erupted into laughter again.

Jack rubbed his reddening jaw morosely. "Would you shut up, woman? You're attractin' attention," he warned. Sophia quieted instantly, the previous tension in her limbs seeming to once again regain its full force. She didn't want to be noticed.

But the men in this port were very occupied with other matters, Sophia noted with a relieved sigh as a man and a woman looking as if their limbs, torsos, and not to mention mouths had melded together crossed their path. No one paid her much attention.

Jack swung open the door of an old inn that displayed the name "The Silver Rider" in cracked gold paint above the entrance. Sophia followed him in, the gloom within the ramshackle building nearly suffocating her upon her entering. 

"'Oo's tha'? 'Oo's come t' bother us in th' night?" The voice was as dry as sandpaper, rasping through the darkness. Sophia shivered, instinctively stepping closer to Jack.

-

As it turned out, the voice that had disturbed Sophia so belonged to the man Jack was looking for. He was old, that much Sophia could tell, and seemed to have shrunk within his skin into the stooped figure he was now. He wore tiny spectacles that perched precariously on the bent ridge of his nose, and they trembled in their place as he and Jack greeted each other like old friends. Sophia hung in the shadows. 

The old man was now examining the trinkets Jack had brought along with him, head bent towards the table at which he sat, a magnifying glass held a hairs breadth away from the items he was studying. Jack sat across from him, his booted foot tapping, unnoticed except to Sophia, against the leg of his chair. Sophia allowed her back to rest against the crumbling wall mutely. She preferred to be overlooked by this particular friend of Jack's.

Silence reigned for the better part of ten minutes.

"Chamberlin, ye say?" At last the old man spoke, his voice phlegmy and sounding as if he had not used it in weeks.

"Aye," came Jack's easy reply.

The man hesitated several moments, his eyes boring into those of Jack. "I used t' know a few o' tha' family. If I'd o' known they's was this theivin' I might o' not stuck 'round in their company for long."

Jack grew very still, and Sophia sucked in her breath and held it.

"It's not real, then? Counterfeit an' th' like?" Jack asked, running a hand over his face.

"Not worth more 'n a bale o' hay."

"Bloody 'ell." Jack stood quickly, his eyes flashing to Sophia's in a mere instant. It seemed that it was only then that the old man noticed the silent woman in the corner of his inn. Sophia found herself frozen as his rheumy eyes examined her face much as he had examined the fake swag. 

"'Oo's th' pretty lass, Cap'n Sparrow?" he questioned distractedly, as if his mind was elsewhere, within the old caverns of his long-spanning memory. 

Jack stepped over to Sophia, grabbing her elbow and drawing her from the darkness of her shadows. She looked scared, he noticed. Strange reason to be scared, this old man, for that was what he was, an old man, full of fantastical ideas, most more illogical than not. He issued her a faint pat on the arm. "This 'ere be Sophia. She's accompanied me on me last sail. Braved Calcutta an' all!" Jack declared with a lopsided grin, successfully masking the disappointment his recent discovery about his treasure had slapped so rudely upon him.

Sophia remained silent. The man was looking at her very oddly, as if he was trying to unmask some massive mystery.

"You're a Cuthburt, are ye not?"

At this, Sophia was sufficiently disturbed. She noticed Jack's eyes narrow in her peripheral vision, before he swung his head around to gaze intently at the side of her face. Sophia nodded slowly. "Yes, that is my maiden name." Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.

The old man stared unnervingly at her a while longer, his eyes large and magnified by his glasses. Sophia fidgeted. "Well. . .  I knew yer father, lassie. Good man." Suddenly, the man broke the contact with his eyes, leaving Sophia thoroughly shaken. He turned away, leaning heavily upon a walking stick that Sophia had not noticed until now, muttering. "Too many secrets. . . much. . . shouldn't be. . ." 

Jack felt Sophia shudder at his side. Abruptly, he turned to stride towards the doorway, leaving Sophia to follow behind him. They were done here, and he needed a drink. Badly.

Sophia trailed at Jack's heels, moving in a daze. Just as she approached the door, the old man's rattley voice reached her ears. She froze.

"Ye do well t' protect those secrets, Miss Cuthburt. Many a man. . ." With that, he averted his eyes to Jack's now still form beside Sophia. ". . .would do much t' get their 'ands on them. Do as yer father did. . . let no one see, let no one know."

Jack watched as Sophia stiffened, tension running through the petite width of her shoulders. She had not turned around, but instead stared blankly at the ground in front of her. Quite suddenly, Sophia sprung into movement, brushing past him as she stalked awkwardly out the door.

Jack turned to question the old man, but he had already retreated into the shadows.

-

Sophia could hear Jack walking mutely behind her, could hear his heavy, albeit uneven due to his characteristic swagger, footsteps in the dirt, but her mind was lost on other matters. 

He knew. That blasted old man _knew_. How many others had her father told? How long had her safety been an illusion?

She strode along, internalizing in her debate, only for her trance-like state to be broken as Jack's hand pressed quickly onto her shoulder, spinning her around to meet his gaze.

"Wha' was tha' about, Sophia?" He asked quietly, his eyes searching her face for some sign, a hint of her thoughts.

But she remained stone, unaffected. "I cannot say, Captain." 

-

The next morning as the Black Pearl was sailing out of the harbor Tortuga resided in, Jack spotted the Dauntless prowling about the coast, moving slowly, leisurely, waiting. He remained silent for several moments, carefully calculating the result of his discovery. 

Obviously, Norrington knew that Sophia was missing. For two months she had been away from home, lost. Perhaps the commodore merely guessed that Jack had returned to repeat the kidnapping he had done so many years ago. Perhaps Will told him.

Jack pushed the thought from his mind. If Will was anything like his father, he would rather die than betray his friends.

Jack shot a glance towards the door of Sophia's cabin. She had not emerged since the night before. If he could avoid confrontation with the Dauntless she wouldn't have to know about the sighting.

"Hard t' port, ye slimy sods! We're takin' th' long way 'round th' island!" Jack shouted, grinning faintly as the Dauntless disappeared over the horizon. 

-

On the night before the Pearl was to dock in its secluded little cove outside Port Royal, Jack called Sophia into his cabin. She came, quiet and reserved, her hands folded in front of her as she stood at the doorway, eyes downcast. This was to be goodbye.

Jack motioned towards a chair, and Sophia sat, back straight. The captain had his silver-decked fingers wrapped around the neck of his seemingly ever-present bottle of rum, and he took several swigs before speaking.

"This has been. . . interestin', Sophie."

"Yes."

Jack frowned at her simple response, squinting in her direction as he sat across from her, clunking his rum bottle loudly on the table. "So you'll jus' be goin' back t' your normal life, then? Hoity-toity high class?"

"Yes. My husband will be worried," she replied.

They sat in silence, and Jack studied her, soaking in this woman who had tumbled into his life and sent him into a whirlwind, fully aware that this would probably be the last time they spoke. The crew would be saying their goodbyes tomorrow. There was no time.

Her face was carefully wiped of all expression, pale and glowing in the dim light of his cabin. Her hair, tucked at the nape of her neck in its customary bun, had come loose a bit; pieces were falling around her face. 

Jack cleared his throat and Sophia started, having come accustomed to the silence in the room. She glanced up, finding him staring with those unnerving black eyes at her, lips quirked into a faint smile, the light in the room casting shadows across the angles of his face. Sophia blushed like a bloody schoolgirl.

Jack didn't seem to notice. "Give ol' Jack a kiss before you leave, love?" He asked hopefully, his smile transforming instantly into the smirk that Sophia was more accustomed to.

Sophia rolled her eyes, but nevertheless stood next to the captain, and, rising to her tiptoes, gave him a chaste peck on the lips in the manner of old friends. She smiled at him after she returned to her normal height and patted his arm cheerfully. 

"Goodbye, Jack."

-

On the way back to her cabin, Sophia walked by the dining hall, glancing through the door as she heard good-natured laughter reverberating off the walls within. A group of men, including Thandor, Andrew, Caliso, and Gibbs had pulled a group of roughly hewn chairs in a circle around a table and currently sported a hand of cards. Hearing Sophia's footsteps, they looked up and Thandor spoke, offering her a friendly smile.

"Would ye like t' play a hand o' cards, Sophia?"

-

"This, gentlemen, is what you would call winning." Sophia grinned, slapping her cards on the table and leaning back in her chair, smiling smugly. The men leaned over to inspect her hand. 

"By Jesus. She's won!"

"Bloody hell!"

"I don' believe it."

Sophia reached her arm across the table to assemble her newly won collection of trinkets and coins amidst the various statements of disbelief and outrage, smiling all the while. Jack, who'd heard the commotion from his cabin and come to join the game, stared, smoky-eyed, at her over his cards. Sophia met his gaze steadily, challengingly.

"Is there something you'd like to say, Captain Sparrow? Congratulations, perhaps?" She wondered aloud, casting a sly look around the table.

Jack set his cards on the table, stretching a cat-like stretch before addressing his fellow pirates, his voice rusty from lack of sleep. "Well, lads, wha' d'you think?" He paused for effect, a devious grin forming upon his lips. "I think our Sophia 'ere's been. . . cheatin'."

Agreeable grunts sounded across the table, and Sophia's mouth dropped open in shock. "I did no such thing!" she stated indignantly, arms crossing over her chest.

"We're pirates, love, savvy? No use 'n lyin' t' us." With that, Jack darted over to her side of the table and promptly threw the flailing Sophia over his shoulder, stalking out of the dining hall and over to the railing of the ship. The men trailed behind him, laughing and poking fun at the struggling woman in Jack's grasp. 

"Ja-ack! Stop!" Sophia whined between chortles of laughter, kicking her legs uselessly. Jack grinned as he shifted her from his shoulder to hold her precariously over the edge of the ship, not noticing when Sophia froze, her breathing hitched in her throat.

"Me mates an' I think you need a little dip in th' sea t' cure you o' your deceitful ways, Sophie." Jack said playfully, waggling her unsteadily as he held her from the depths of the ocean.

Sophia forgot to breath. She shut her eyes tight, trying to forget the harsh pain that the sea brought, trying not to panic. She wouldn't drown; she wouldn't let herself succumb to that death. She didn't struggle, fearing that it would cause Jack to loose his grip, but instead gazed determinedly into Jack's eyes and willed him to see the fear in her own. "Jack, don't!" She hadn't meant to sound that hysterical, but her voice was strangled and high-pitched. Jack squinted at her from beneath his brow, surprised at her sudden change of moods. 

"Please. . . Oh god, don't drop me!" Sophia pleaded, despairing as she felt the prick of tears at the corner of her eyes. She could feel the sting of apprehension on her abdomen as her body forecast the result of Jack's actions, the expectation of pain. 

Jack gazed at her for a minute longer, noting the fear in her eyes. It was not often that one saw raw terror in the eyes of this woman, and it unnerved him that this was one of those times. It should have been a harmless threat. The crew had grown silent behind him. Mutely, Jack brought Sophia's small form back onto the safety of the deck of the ship.

Sophia was surprised to find that her legs could not support her weight and let out a small humph as her behind collided sharply with the deck. And so she sat, face pale with the tears that streamed unhindered down her cheeks. Her hands were trembling. She tried to erase the image of the sea below her with nothing but air to keep her from its painful surface. 

Jack balked along with the rest of the crew, his eyes widening as Sophia's usual confident personality faltered dangerously. This new woman was foreign, a crying shell of the Sophia they knew so well. 

"Go t' your cabins," Jack ordered firmly, a sharp edge to his voice. The crew dispersed reluctantly, casting concerned looks in Sophia's direction as they went. Jack knelt down to her level, lifting her chin. Her eyes were empty. 

Sophia was lost within a white haze. Shock, her mind groggily informed her, it was shock. She could feel Jack's fingers against the underside of her jaw, could see his face swimming before her eyes.

"Sophia?" Jack questioned softly, gazing steadily into the steel of her irises, searching for something, anything that would tell him she was all right. Seeing nothing, he cursed. "_Damn. _Bloody 'ell." 

Once again, the captain lifted her in his arms and into his cabin with a sigh, lowering her carefully into a seated position on his bed. She didn't move. 

Jack stood with his fists balled at his hips, mouth set in a firm line as he swayed gently along with the movement of his ship. He watched the silent woman, his voice penetrating the silence only after a good five minutes of thought. 

Only now did Jack remember, with striking clarity, the day that Sophia fell overboard. She had shown so much pain, so much fear, but it was as if she expected it, accepted it in all its intensity. As if she knew.

"I think it'd be best if you tell me wha's happenin' t' you, Sophia." He finally spoke.

Sophia looked at him with surprising lucidity for her state, her expression regaining some of the personality Jack knew so well. The soft angles of her face hardened, as if in defense. "I can't." Her voice was so soft.

Jack threw up his hands, pacing about the room as he spoke. "Why th' bloody 'ell not? We've been through this before, love. I should think 's about time you'd have grown tired of it," he bellowed, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures that were amplified by his exasperation. 

Sophia remained silent throughout Jack's raving, her hands folded in her lap. It was time. She was strong enough now, after three years of marriage and two months on a pirate ship, to reveal what her family held so dear, reveal what had caused her father to warn her every day that her safety was in peril. Sophia spoke patiently. 

"I said that I can't tell you, Jack. I can't tell you because. . . because I must show you."   

-

A/N: Here comes the big cliffy that you all knew had to come around some time! I feel so evil. 

I'm so sorry this took so long. I hadn't realized that I was going to be gone most of this weekend. AND the time that I wasn't gone I was working. And schoolwork. Fun fun.

I really was not satisfied with the last chapter AT ALL, mostly because I just thought it sucked. Jack was really out of character. I need to watch the movie again to soak him in. (weird. . .) Anyway, I hope I redeemed myself with this addition!

Reviews are always welcomed, and if you would like replies you can e-mail me at moonmartian88@hotmail.com. And don't ask about the e-mail address. I'm very strange.


	14. The Fortunes of Ektibar

Chapter: The Fortunes of Ektibar

-

Jack didn't speak.

Sophia shifted her weight from one foot to another, her eyes falling downcast momentarily as thoughts of hesitation flashed through her mind. But no, she'd already revealed more than she ever had before, already committed to what she was about to do, what her father had forbidden her to do.

Jack stood silently, watching the war that waged within her play in an embarrassingly obvious out on Sophia's face with his brow furrowed. The woman wore her emotions on her sleeve, but Jack already knew that. He was surprised when she spoke.

"You'll need to get a bucket of seawater." Her voice was quiet, and she seemed to not be aware of the absurdity of the request. Jack opened his mouth as if to speak, to ask her why on God's green earth she would need a bucket of bloody seawater, but instead abruptly closed his lips and shook his head, deciding to simply resign to the ludicrous demand lest he provoke further emotional outbursts from the clearly sensitive woman Sophia was right now.

Sophia could hear Jack's footsteps echo across the deck of the Pearl and, with a trembling sigh, sat heavily onto his bed, her fingers at the buttons of her blouse. One by one, down they went, until the shirt was completely open, exposing the straight, smooth line of her torso, the valley between her breasts and the fullness of their curves. The shirt did, however, just cover her nipples; at least she could save a small strand of her dignity with that. Sophia tried to make her face blank, set her eyes vacant so they would not reveal the humiliation she would feel as soon as Jack entered the room.

-

Despite the curious stares of his crew, Jack retrieved what Sophia had so adamantly and randomly asked for, grumbling as water sloshed over the edge of the bucket as he lugged the thing back to his cabin. Finally reaching his destination, he edged past the door and set the heavy load next to the doorway, turning around to face Sophia. He nearly fell over.

"Jesus!" Jack stumbled back a bit, his eyes wide as he ogled the smooth, white display of skin Sophia so readily exhibited. Jack squeezed his eyes closed for a brief moment, although they quickly snapped open again and he shook his head as if to clear it from a dream. "Wha' are you doin'?"

Sophia flushed, heat rising in her cheeks, but she stood her ground, gazing back at him with a critical glare. For some reason his reaction angered her. "Oh, come off it, Jack. It's not as if you haven't seen a woman's body before," she snapped, her insecurities forgotten at the moment. She crossed her arms over her chest, but then, looking down and noticing the effect it had on her breasts and Jack's increasingly wayward stare, uncrossed them immediately. 

Jack couldn't help but allow a small smirk to cross his lips, his eyes glinting eerily in the lamplight as they roamed across the flat plane of her belly, the swell of her breasts just visible before they disappeared behind her blouse. She had beautiful skin. . . 

Sophia hadn't expected the look Jack was giving her now, the yearning, fixed look that he'd never really shown her before. She shivered. "Will you kindly stop. . . that and throw that bucket of water on me now?" She nearly shouted at him. 

Jack drew his head back, squinting at her and considering her demand with a skeptical gaze. _Completely mad. . . She's lost 'er bloody marbles. _"Sophia –" he began.

Sophia shut him up with one glare, stalking over to stand beside him and reaching down to grasp the handle of the bucket. "I can't explain right now, Jack. . .  You'd never understand why this is so difficult for me." 

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but before he could make a sound, Sophia lifted the bucket over her head and spilled its contents down her body. Jack was almost too mesmerized by the image of the briny water running down her bare skin to reply. Almost. "Christ, Sophia! Wha's –" Sophia hushed him with a all-too-serious glance in his direction. Jack could see Sophia's hand shaking as she set the bucket down at her feet.

_Shouldn't be much longer now. Shouldn't. . .  _Sophia let out a near-silent whimper as the familiar pain burned through her body, stepping back until her spine was supported by the wall. She slid down about halfway so that her knees were bent, squeezing her eyes shut and breathing hard through her nose as the pain intensified. She could feel her skin breaking and changing, could feel her family's message forming.

Jack suppressed the urge to curse the hell out of the air as he watched welts blossom across Sophia's chest and belly, the strange red markings marring the previously flawless surface of her skin as if scratched in quickly by someone not handy with a knife and left to fester and inflame. He took a hesitant step forward, wondering if perhaps he should help Sophia through the pain she was so obviously experiencing. The agony in her eyes was identical to that which Jack saw those four years ago when Sophia had fallen into the ocean. Clarity dawned in Jack's eyes.

"That's. . . interesting."

Sophia couldn't see; the room was black and fuzzy. The pain was blinding her. She heard Jack, though, his seemingly unaffected comment infuriating her. Sophia glared at him through her haze, before speaking in a voice strained with suffering. "Write it down."

Jack started, having not expected Sophia to speak. He could see a sheen of sweat beginning to form on her brow, and her knees trembled beneath her weight. She had some strength, that woman. Still, her request confused him. "What?"

"It's a message, Jack. Write it down," she breathed. Jack peered closer, only to recoil sharply as he realized that it was true. The welts were words.

"Bloody 'ell." Jack scrambled to find a pen and paper. Finally, he retrieved them, hidden as they were beneath various papers and maps, and quickly jotted down the message of about a hundred words or so. He felt as if he was in a dream, and the absurdity of copying a message that was burned into someone's skin onto an ordinary piece of parchment had not caught up to him. Jack didn't take the time to really read the words as he wrote them.

Sophia heard the scratching of Jack's pen, heard his muttering as he worked. The pain was receding. She felt the message retract into her body once more, the stretched and burning skin returning to its natural state. She buttoned up her blouse with trembling fingers, glancing up once she was done to find Jack staring at her. 

"I'll enlighten you once you've read it thoroughly," she told him before closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall she leaned upon, breathing deeply through her nose and trying to calm the rhythm of her heart.

Jack glanced down at the paper he'd written so hastily on, then returned his gaze to Sophia. "You'd better 'ave a good explanation, love. This 's gotten much too Aztec-gold-curse-like for my liking."

Despite the lingering pain that still tingled across her belly, Sophia smiled, speaking in a throaty voice that caused Jack to raise his eyebrows. She had never sounded so tired before. "You have no idea, Jack Sparrow."

Taking this as his cue, Jack picked up the message he had written down, the stiffness of the parchment crinkling beneath his worn fingertips. Slowly and with a fixed expression of concentration, he read.

_So now you have discovered a message_

_That only sea-brine can show._

_If you choose to follow the signs _

_You find hidden in my words,_

_You may come upon a fortune_

_Unimagined by the common man._

_Ektibar's gilded cave awaits you._

_But how can one find these riches?_

_The truth is quite simple, you see._

_What you so seek lies unseen by_

_ All those save for my messenger, _

_In a place named for the oldest_

_And wisest of things._

_Follow to the west and along_

_The edge on a path well worn,_

_And she will see._

_And now a word is needed, _

_Spoken by she who bears my name_

_And cannot say of where the treasure lies._

_As for the meaning of this saying,_

_All I can reveal is this:_

_Most precious to any seaman,_

_A carrier of both gifts and ill news._

_She travels with the greatest of ease,_

_Although a swift tumult and swell_

_Of unexpected affairs will fell her._

_My own will be the statement you require,_

_For strongest in her time she was._

"You've heard of the Fortunes of Ektibar, then?" Sophia asked quietly, her eyes still closed. She interpreted Jack's silence as shock, being simply too tired to take the energy to open her eyes and scrutinize his expression.

A small smile flashed across Jack's lips. The Fortunes of Ektibar was perhaps the most well known of any of the pirate legends. The myth of immense wealth hidden by Bernardo Ektibar was dismissed by most as just that, a myth. Those less-sensible men who went searching for the treasure were often lost at sea or mutinied against, having spent months or even years at sea, stopping only to barter for food and drink. But Jack doubted that any of those men had acquired the knowledge he now held. 

Sophia finally opened her eyes, feeling somewhat refreshed after her brief period of relaxation, to find Jack smiling, although lost in thought, at the piece of paper he held in one silver-decked hand. She broke the silence in a slightly wavering tone. "The secret has been passed down by the woman in my family for many generations. I believe Bernardo Ektibar was a distant relative on my father's side." Sophia paused, her eyes faltering and falling to the floor as she hesitated. "When I was raped, it wasn't merely a random crime. Word had gotten out of my father's connection with the fortune and a group of bandits kidnapped me, intending to trade my life for the information on its whereabouts. Things simply escalated from there. I. . . I lied to you when I told you that he was a friend of the family and I'm sorry for that." Sophia folded her hands in her lap with a sigh, watching Jack as he lifted his gaze from the paper to her face. She was surprised to find a lopsided grin forming across his lips. His eyes were very dark.

"You really should reform your opinion o' me if you think tha' a wee little fib like tha' 's goin' to ruffle me feathers, love." Jack chuckled, before abruptly standing and grasping Sophia around the waist, his beads and ropes of hair whipping gently against her cheeks as he pulled her towards him, and kissed her soundly on the lips in celebration. He then whirled her in a dizzying circle around the small cabin, his arm firm and strong across the expanse of her back. Sophia let out a yelp of surprise but couldn't help but smile at Jack's uninhibited joy. He was laughing, a deep, filling sound that warmed her core.

"You're goin' to make me a rich man, Sophie!" Jack shouted with abandon, twirling her through an extravagant maneuver that Sophia was vaguely familiar with but had not expected a pirate to know. She masked her surprise with an elegant curtsy once the room had stopped spinning.

"You are far more than just a common scallywag, Mr. Sparrow," exclaimed Sophia, her eyebrow raised, the seriousness and memories of the moment just minutes before completely forgotten. 

Jack squinted through his coal-lined eyes at her, still unable to wipe the joyful grin from his lips. "O' course, love." He spread his arms out wide, invitingly. "There are many things 'bout ol' Jack tha' you don' know of," he said, throwing her an evocative smirk, dark eyes twinkling.

Sophia planted her hands on her hips. "Hmm. I don't believe I really care to find out much more, Captain." Sophia had meant for this to be in a scolding tone, but instead her voice revealed an inner playful mood that she had been masking with disapproval.   

Jack retrieved a fresh bottle of rum, uncorking it with flourish and taking a large swig before answering, his voice faintly raspy from the consumption of strong alcohol. "You're sure, love?" Jack swayed slightly on his feet in his ordinary manner, the amber liquid in his bottle sloshing quietly against the glass.

Sophia nodded curtly, despite the flush of heat in her cheeks in response to the intensity of his eyes as he locked his gaze upon her. Turning, she opened the door and returned once again to the cool night air of the Caribbean dark, not bothering to close the door behind her as she left Jack's cabin. Her eyes lit as she spied the dim glow of Port Royal in the distance. She was going home.

Jack followed, casting an amused glance in her direction. He wasn't as daft as most thought him to be, and knew that Sophia would not be returning to Port Royal as she expected. She was his guide to the Fortunes of Ektibar, as the message permanently imprinted on her body claimed. Sophia did not think he was so ignorant that he could not solve a little riddle, did she? It had taken Jack little time to determine that he would need Sophia to both find the whereabouts of the treasure and open the doorway into the actual cave in which it lay. 

She was Sophia Ektibar, and she was his key. 

Jack simply grinned, swigging his rum, and said nothing in response to Sophia's dreams of home.

-

Sophia refused to walk into her wonderful, pristine house wearing her pirate rags, and so she could be found searching blindly through her cabin, making a dreadful mess of the room she had taken so much effort to clean. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she found the crumpled red dress from those months ago hidden underneath her bed. She was glad it was red. No one would be able to see the small but still evident stains of Jack's blood.

So she slipped it on carefully, trying with little success to forget the events that had happened when she had donned this dress last. Giving herself one last shake and smoothing the fabric down across her abdomen and thighs, she strode purposefully from her cabin and into the oncoming dawn. Casting her gaze out across the water, she froze, her mouth dropping open in betrayal.

The horizon was empty. They'd turned around.

Sophia found Jack at the helm and stormed directly up to him. "Jack, why haven't we docked? Why did you turn around?" She asked hysterically, the captain's expression of quiet perplexity only succeeding in infuriating her further. 

Jack accessed Sophia's change in dress. He'd grown very used to seeing her in simple skirts and breeches and a blouse, and this fiery red contraption she had adorned caught him off guard, as did the contours of her body, hidden for so long beneath baggy linen. He relaxed into an easy grin, successfully masking his surprise. "You really thought tha' I was goin' t' let you go home when all th' Fortunes of Ektibar be in me grasp?"

Sophia could feel rage build up inside her as tears already began spilling over onto her cheeks. "I want to go home, Jack! I've spent nearly three months on this bloody ship and I'm tired. I miss my husband! I miss _life_!" With that, her judgment completely dissipated as an onslaught of anger flooded through her limbs. She lunged at Jack, her fists beating repeatedly on his chest, a flurry of movement.

Jack raised an eyebrow as Sophia commenced to break down and have a massive temper tantrum. He simply let her hit him for several moments as he tried to recover from the shock of it. Finally, he captured her wrists, one in each hand, with rapid reflexes and squeezed so tightly that Sophia gasped. "If you're goin' t' make a fuss about it then I suppose I'll 'ave t' subdue you, no?"

Sophia only had time to widen her eyes before Jack threw her over his shoulder with an ease that made Sophia's stomach crease in fear.

-

"Jack Sparrow, I swear to God I will never forgive you for this until the day I die," Sophia stated matter-of-factly, still fighting feebly against the bonds that tied her hands behind the bedpost of Jack's bed. She was sitting on the grimy floorboards, her arms jerked at an uncomfortable angle behind her and her hands tied with a piece of linen good for nothing else. "How can you do this? How can you be so cruel?"

Jack grinned, standing over her in close enough proximity to make her uncomfortable. He had a bottle of rum in hand. "Pirate."

Sophia scowled. "That is not a response for everything, Jack," she exclaimed, shifting fitfully in an attempt to gain a more comfortable position, her breath still angry and erratic in its pattern. "Are you intending to keep me tied up here all day?"

Jack gazed at her, silently, as her breasts, pale and swelling over her dress, pressed against the lacing of her bodice with each short breath that she took. He knelt down to her level. "Aye, or at least 'till you promise not t' make another display o' yourself as you did jus' moments ago."

"I want to go home." Sophia responded without thinking. Jack ignored her.

She jutted out her lower lip slightly – a habit never really lost since childhood – but soon opened her mouth to object further. She stopped breathing as Jack raised his hand to rest a finger against her bare collarbone. 

"I should punish you much further for behavin' as you did, Sophia. Many a captain would," Jack said huskily, trailing his roughened fingertip across the slender expanse of her throat and down her chest to hover just over the swell of her breast.

Sophia swallowed, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that she was utterly at his mercy, tied up and helpless. He could do anything he wanted and she would have no chance of fighting back. She would have to use words to repel him, and quickly set her mind to discover ones that would do just that.

Jack spread his hand so that his entire palm rested upon her chest and shoulder and then encircled her throat gently, testing his way. He marveled at the softness of her skin, the slim circumference of her neck. Sophia shivered, despite herself, as the sensation of the warm, rough surface of his hand contrasted sharply with the dank air.

Nevertheless, Sophia mustered up as much venom and hate that she could pour into her voice, and spoke. "You wouldn't dare, Jack. You wouldn't _dare_."

Jack raised his eyes to hers, withdrawing his hand in surprise at the dangerous tone in her gaze. He smiled faintly. "As you wish, love." And then he was gone, leaving her tied to the bed, exposed as her skin pricked where he had touched her.

-

A/N: Ta da! The big adventure begins! How do you guys like how the big revealing of Sophia's secret played out? Lemme know. I think Ektibar's message turned out decently enough, but then again I'm absolutely terrible at writing poetry. Just be glad I didn't try to rhyme (shudder shudder).  

I figured it was about time that I responded to all my wonderful (recent) reviewers. Sorry if I miss any of you guys. You can complain and I will be sure to include you next chapter. So. . .

**Lip Balm** – Your approval really means a lot to me! I've read many of your fics and really admire your writing. Thank you so much.

**Sakhara291 **– First of all, thanks! In response to your question about Chamberlin Manor, I'm sorry to say that that aspect of The Fortunes of Ektibar is one of my lesser thought over plot turns. I really had my heart set on getting Jack and Sophia to India because my grandmother lived there as a child (she's English. That was back when India was under English rule). However, Sophia was so shocked because supposedly the Chamberlin family is supposed to be one of the most ruthless when it comes to catching and punishing people who've stolen from them. She had never guessed that Jack would have done something like that, and for the first time she really realized why Gibbs uses the expression "daft like Jack." She'd never seen him in action before. I should have made that more clear in the chapter. I really don't like that chapter. I should rewrite it. :)

**Piratex – **Thank you much, darling! As for the updating soon, I'll try. My life's a little bit crazy right now. Spring break soon, so look for quicker updates then.

**CrazyCanoeingGIT – **Oooh, wonderful. Thanks. I actually had read "What's in a Name" before you recommended it to me. Wonderful job! I really like the uniqueness in plot. Now, if only I could accomplish the same goal. . . 

**AJ-Sparrow – **Hey, there's nothing wrong with being addicted to the written word! I always love new addictees (hehe. Addictees). Sorry about the slow posting of chapters. I'm tryin'!

**DaydreamBeliever14 – **I'm glad you like my ickle ficcy. I know, I was really not liking myself for a bit after forcing poor Sophia into such a terrible situation. Icky icky Norrington! Jack will make it better. :)


	15. Through Heat and Hate

Chapter: Through Heat and Hate

-

**- Aboard the Dauntless -**

Dawn was fast approaching as the two men sat, thoroughly exhausted, on the deck of the Dauntless as it sped with full sails into Port Royal. They were returning home. The two men had been given the task of watching the horizon for oncoming ships, and were finding it rather hard to keep their eyes open.

Commodore Norrington had kept his men on tight schedules the past near three months since he had learned of Sophia's kidnapping. Watchmen were always present on the Dauntless, scanning the horizon for the three-masted ship with black sails, while the commodore holed himself up in his cabin and poured over his maps and muttering to himself. He was quick to rise to a temper and many of the younger members of the crew were rather frightened of him when he emerged from his cabin, wig askew and eyes bright with obsession. Their leader was unraveling in the absence of his wife.

Thomas McCullough poked his companion of the long hours of the night, Christian Wheiz, his eyes plastered to the rim of the small hand telescope. "'Ey, mate. Take a look a' this." 

Christian snored on. With a grunt, Thomas hit him with a closed fist soundly on the arm. "OY! Christian!"

Said watchman started awake, his eyes widening briefly before focusing on his companion. "What? Christ, Tom, you didn't need to hit me," he accused, rubbing the offended arm miserably.

"There's a ship jus' on the 'orizon. Three-master, white sails. Migh' be o' the pirate sort."

Christian scrambled from his reclined position, taking the hand telescope from the less-experienced man and expertly adjusted it to focus. The ship was moving fast, now a good deal further from the point at which Thomas had spotted it. Christian did not recognize it and it was too far away to get a proper view of the name. "Go fetch Commodore Norrington, Tom, will you?" Tom scurried off, returning with the bedraggled commodore several moments later. 

Norrington looked as if he had not slept in quite some time. Dark shadows circled eyes red with fatigue, and he walked with a swaying motion that caused Christian to wonder if he'd been drinking. Nevertheless, the commodore took the hand telescope from him and focused it on the horizon abruptly and without a word.

Norrington's eyes widened as he spied the familiar ship, his mouth twisting into a smirk of triumph. The ship had white sails in place of black, but was moving so quickly and in such a way that was unmistakable. Norrington _knew_. He knew it was the Black Pearl. Jack Sparrow was within his grasp. Revenge.

And Sophia would return to him. His beautiful wife who had been taken by that savage would come home and love him and be loved in return and rescue him from his emotional downward spiral that had materialized in her absence. 

Norrington lowered the telescope and gazed at the speck on the horizon that was Sparrow's ship, lost in his thoughts. The ship seemed to be changing its course a bit, but that didn't bother Norrington. He knew they would still catch Sparrow by surprise.

Christian and Tom shuffled their feet slightly, awaiting his orders. Finally, they came: "Raise top-sails, men! I want full speed ahead and we haven't got a moment to loose. That's the Black Pearl."

The two men started with excitement, hurrying off to inform the other men of their shipmates of the discovery. Finally, they had found the Black Pearl, the ship that they had spent months looking for!

Norrington grinned and raised the telescope to his eye again, spanning the horizon for the ship. His mouth dropped open in disbelief.

It was gone. The skyline was bare.

He searched the sea for several more minutes, dismay clearly portrayed upon his features as his motions became desperate. The Black Pearl must have turned around. How could they have known that the Dauntless had caught sight of them?

Norrington snapped the telescope closed and, with the abrupt motions of a man trying in vain to contain his anger, hurled it against the mast of his ship. The glass shattered into a thousand unfixable pieces and clattered against the deck as they fell.

They couldn't go after the ship now, with no point to strive towards. They would be wandering the ocean in vain, only to return empty-handed months later. It was better to stake out some pirate town that Sparrow was bound to stop in at one point or another. 

Norrington grasped the railing tightly as he stared into the waves that crashed beneath the ship, his knuckles white with unspent strength. Who knew how much longer they would be searching?

-

**- Aboard The Black Pearl** -

Jack had wisely chosen not to return to his cabin that night, rather leaving Sophia to fume with resentment, hoping that the time alone would calm her spirits. Instead, he retired to the crew's communal sleeping quarters, secretly pouring over the riddle that he'd dictated from Sophia's body. 

_In a place named for the oldest and wisest of things. . . _

Jack was lost, having retrieved every name of every town he had visited in his travels, even those he thought may have existed in his childhood dreams and petty travels.

Now he pushed the door open silently to his cabin, wishing his boots didn't clunk so much as he walked across the room to retrieve a gigantic map of the Caribbean. Sophia was asleep with her chin resting lightly against her chest and her arms thrust back at an awkward angle, hands still tied. Jack's hands twitched as he remembered the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers. 

And, of course, he chose that time to trip over a bloody chair. 

Jack righted himself, merely stumbling amidst the great racket ha had produced, only to find Sophia's gray eyes glaring at him. 

"Are you going to untie me now?" She sounded tired and more than a bit miffed as she pressed her back against the bedpost, trying to relieve the stretch in her shoulders and the pain in her arms.

Jack sighed. "I should think you've 'ad enough punishment, aye?" Slowly, he kneeled down to untie her bonds, consciously aware of their close proximity as he reached behind her back, his forearm brushing across the soft fabric of her dress. 

Sophia let out a gasp as the rough linen came loose and gradually retracted her arms from their uncomfortable arrangement, her shoulder joints aching in protest. She rubbed resentfully at the raw spots on her wrists, glowering at Jack as her muscles became accustomed to their rightful position again. 

Jack ignored her and went to search for his map, grinning faintly as he anticipated the cold treatment he was sure to receive in repercussion for leaving Sophia tied up all night. He was always rather entertained by her flustered moods.

Sophia stood up and promptly plopped down on the bed as her numb legs gave out underneath her. With a groan, she kneaded her calves with harsh movements in an attempt to bring the blood back into her limbs. "Did you really have to tie me up?"

Jack merely grinned. "Aye. I love t' hear you scream, love." His eyes twinkled merrily with mischief as he watched Sophia's cheeks color pink. 

"I did not –" Sophia cut herself off as she realized that she had, in fact, been screaming last night in protest to Jack hauling her over his shoulder and tramping her off to his cabin. "Damn you, Jack Sparrow."

"Already been done, love." Jack countered smartly, before turning on his heel, map stowed firmly at the crook of his elbow, and strode from the room, leaving Sophia to nurse her sore wrists, aching shoulders, and useless legs.

-

The days grew stiflingly hot, the Caribbean sun beating heavily down on the Pearl's crew as they worked. All the men stripped their shirts from sweaty chests, and Anamaria, in frustration, had taken a knife to her shirt, leaving only enough to cover the most vital parts, and could be seen glaring at any who cast her a sidelong glace. Sophia briefly considered doing the same, but after little thought decided against it, knowing that she wouldn't be able to bear any lingering gazes from the less moral of the crew. She did, however, cut off her pants at the knee and the sleeves of her blouse, but was still suffering from the heat. 

And so she sat at the bow of the ship, hoping with childish abandon that the wind would suddenly transform from a sultry fume to ice-like jabs of breeze. Finding her wish left un-granted, she turned to watch the men she had come to recognize as her crewmates work, a sea of slick bronze skin, flexing muscles and masculinity. She would have blushed had this been the sight on her last stay on the Pearl, but she was older now and more experienced in the ways of men and of their bodies.

She knew that sooner or later she would have to join them, sweating and straining to carry her load of the work. She had no qualms about working, nor arguments, for that matter. She rather liked how her arms, legs, and torso had lost their helpless soft quality and were growing lithe and lean with flat muscles, not at all un-feminine. She remained pale, though, the white English skin of her mother the dominating hue on her body. Sometimes she wished for her father's Spanish, bronze skin so that she could grow golden and protected from the angry red burns that the suns wreaked frequently upon her skin, but, for the most part, was happy with her appearance and her life on the ship. 

Sophia had not the nerve to ask where their destination was. She doubted that Jack, despite the intelligence that she knew he possessed but still chose to hide, had discovered the location of the Fortunes, or that he had told many others of the crew what they were searching for, for they seemed lost and dazed in the heat, not determined as they would be if they knew what their captain was looking for. 

Sophia scooted from her perch on the bow of the ship, her bare feet slapping across the wooden deck of the ship as she walked. She had long abandoned boots in the heat. Grasping hold of the rigging, she swung herself up to sit astride a bundle of ropes, setting herself to the task of repairing those which had come untied or worn and replacing those which were ruined. 

Jack watched Sophia from his place at the wheel of the ship, grinning faintly as she climbed about the ropes with the best of them, her small frame and flexibility perfect for reaching those places that the men could not. She was, truly, a natural sailor. 

It was days like this that Jack was glad he had kept a close eye on his hat, for the brim shaded his eyes from the roasting sunlight. He, along with the rest of the men, had discarded his shirt, and could almost feel his skin baking and growing browner in the sun.

It was true that Jack did not know were they were headed, and was merely sailing the ocean, stopping in various places and meeting various people that he could trust enough and thought could perhaps help him solve Sophia's riddle. Nor had he told the crew that he held the secret of Ektibar's treasure. After being marooned (for the first time, he thought wryly), Jack learned his lesson.

Jack left the wheel to Anamaria for the moment, swaggering over to stand below Sophia, craning his neck up to look at her as she sat, straddled, on a gathered bunch of ropes, diligently repairing those which were unusable. 

Sophia glanced down, catching sight of the pirate as he gazed at her. "Yes, Captain?"

Jack grinned widely. Sophia had taken to calling him captain again after their little escapade involving torn linen and bedposts. "You've been workin' for six hours straight, love. Don't you want t' come out o' the heat and 'ave a rest?"

Sophia swung from her perch on the rope, landing several feet away from Jack. Taking several steps closer to face him, she sensed the heady scent of male sweat – not at all unpleasant in its own way – and cleared her throat. Casually, she straightened her clothes before speaking. "Everyone else on this ship has been working for just as long as I have, some longer. I don't see why _I_ should need a rest when they do not."

Frowning, Jack realized his blunder. _Damn _that woman, always finding a way to turn his words around on him. "I jus' thought-"

"You just thought that since I'm a woman and not Anamaria, that I would be weaker than the rest of you and need a break so I don't get the bloody vapors or something of that sort! Well, Jack Sparrow, I'm living proof that –"

Sophia cut off, noticing Jack's rather flummoxed look and realizing that she was being too harsh in her retaliation. She had not seen Jack without his shirt on up close since she had tended to his bullet wound, and her breath caught in her throat as she observed the stark, heavy scar just below his right shoulder. Her fingers drifted on their own accord to carefully rest upon the scar tissue, before moving to trace around the scar's edge. "I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack was distracted from the stirring feeling of her touch when she spoke, and shifted his gaze to her face, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. "You're bloody sorry?" Jack reached up to cup her shoulders with his palms, squeezing gently to gain her attention and force her to meet his gaze. Sophia did so, reluctantly, shamed that she had caused him so much pain.

"Sophie, if it wasn't for you, I'd be dead. . . an' then where'd we be?" He added with a cocky smirk, before his expression returned its serious nature. Sophia was somewhat bothered by Jack's sudden change of character. It wasn't like him to admit that he owed his life to someone. Jack let the silence reign for a bit longer before once again speaking, "Don't be sorry for what you 'ad t' do, love."

Sophia nodded demurely, squirming from Jack's hold, his body heat, and him. Jack let her go, grinning faintly at her discomfort. "I have work to do, Jack," she stated quietly, turning from him to return to the riggings.

"Aye."

He had a rather nice view of her behind as she climbed back up to her work.

-

Sophia was nearing sleep. Her mind was pouring over everything: the Fortunes, Jack's quest to find them, the Pearl, her husband, home (where was home?), and Jack himself. 

She knew Jack was still attempting to solve the riddle. Sophia, of course, knew the answer, but also knew that she would not be able to give him even the slightest hint. Her family's curse would prohibit her from doing so. 

Jack. 

Her mind was still trying to pinpoint what sort of person he was, and the events earlier today had confused her yet further. She knew he had kindness, but he was also sly enough to almost be dubbed as catlike. He also had close to no conscience.

Sophia brought a hand to her neck, remembering when his warm hands had spanned the skin there, gentle and yet still demanding. She shivered.

Then why did he intrigue her so? Sophia did not know. She knew he was handsome, and that, when they visited various ports, women always knew him and nearly tripped over themselves trying to gain his attention. He also had a hidden charm about him that those women seemed to respond to. 

Sophia's legs were cramping. She had to get out of this bed. The destination that popped into her head, strangely, was Jack's cabin. She knew he wouldn't be asleep, more likely sitting at his desk with her riddle in hand. Why did she want to go there? Sophia justified this question with wanting to perhaps give him some sort of hint using her body motions instead of her voice on the Fortunes' whereabouts. In the back of her mind she knew that this was not the only reason. She wanted touch. 

Sophia missed that, touch. It was the aspects of her marriage she missed most of all, in fact. She missed a brush of the arm during conversation, the soft stroking and petting of her skin before lovemaking.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, finding her trousers and slipping them on, tucking her shirt in so that it would not hang past her knees. 

Even the night was hot and sticky. Sophia padded over to Jack's cabin door. She could feel her confidence faltering with each step, her stomach contracting with nervousness. Carefully, she raised a hand to knock, her knuckles hesitating over the wood. Taking a breath, she steeled herself and knocked. The sound seemed to ring out over the black sea.   

-

A/N: Oooo. . . cliffy. Will this finally be what you've all been waiting for? Wild, passionate sex? I'll never tell. . . 

I will be, however, the first to confess that this chapter has a lot of fluff in it. One of my transition chapters, if you will.

I'm soo sorry it took so long! This week is finally spring break, and the weeks beforehand are always crazy. Teachers try to cram stuff in. Blah. 

Once again, thanks to my reviewers. You guys are the reason I'm writing this little story! I love you all!

Angsty with Norrington, no? Poor guy, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.


	16. Tension

Chapter: Tension

-

Silence. 

Sophia knocked again

Nothing. 

Carefully and almost silently, she creaked the door open, having found that it was not locked. The room was empty. 

"Damn," she cursed quietly, before closing the door and sliding down the wall to sit, huddled with her knees pulled to her chest, beside Jack's door, gazing mutely at the stars overhead, twinkling like fireflies. Sophia did not know much of stars, and wondered vaguely if someone in this world actually knew what they were. She wondered many other things, her mind gratefully sparing her images of him. Who was "him"? She questioned. She knew, though. For once, it was not her father, or her rapist, or her husband.

Before long, she was asleep, sitting beside the captain's door. 

-

Jack was drinking with his crew, but was not drunk. He fully intended to work more on solving Sophia's riddle later tonight, and did not want to fog his mind with rum. Even he knew that some things were more important than fun and games. Some things.

He watched as his crew became more and more inebriated, their fingers slipping and fumbling against the table as they searched for their rum, their speech nearly incoherent by the time that they noticed Jack's strange mood.

"Why're y'not drinkin', Cap'n?" This came from a man called Sebastian

Jack grinned. "I 'ave business after this. Can't be. . .  impaired, savvy?"

"Ah. . . business." Foolish laughter from him and his companions. "Tell us, mate. Whoss she like?"

Jack furrowed his brow, his fingertips tapping against the neck of his rum bottle as he considered their question. "Wha's who like?" He asked lightly. Sebastian hesitated. 

"Stop bein' a bloody puss, Bass," interjected Thandor, a curious gleam to his eyes. "What's Sophia like 'n bed, Captain?" 

Jack masked his surprise with a sly, cat-like grin. He wondered vaguely what had induced the idea and why they were so sure that he had bedded Sophia. They wanted to know, then? "Bloody vixen, she is. Ne'er seen anythin' like 'er when she gets riled."

Thandor leaned back in his seat, hands locked behind his head, satisfied. "Thought so. Seems. . . feisty." Chuckles of agreement sound from the rest of the crew. Lusty eyes, Jack thought as he gazes at his companions.

"Feisty's not th' word for it, mates." Flashing them one last devious grin, Jack set his bottle on the table and rose from his seat, collecting his hat and placing it on his head with flourish. "Well, gentlemen, I'll be excusin' meself, then. I've got a certain lady waitin' for me." Jack turned to leave, but, as a question arose in his mind, ceased his movement and held up an index finger in query. "Jus' wonderin', wha' made you men so sure tha' I'd had her?"

Sebastian shrugged. "You watch 'er, mate. An' she seems to. . . respond t' you." 

Jack's face remained carefully impassive as he left amid a chorus of hoots and catcalls.

"Bed 'er good for me, mate!"

-

Jack was very, very surprised to find Sophia, of all things, asleep outside his cabin. Very surprised. She looked pale and fragile, bathed in moonlight. 

"Sophie." He shook her a bit, to no avail. "SOPHIE!" 

"What!?" She shouted, jerking awake, surprised to find a hand shaking her and that she was not, in fact, in her nice warm bed but instead outside, sitting outside on the hard wooden deck with a sore bum. Blinking away the tempting haze of sleep, she glanced up to find Jack staring at her, his face silhouetted by the light of the stars and moon. She could only see black where his expression would have been. She did not like it. "Jack?"

"What're you doin' out 'ere, love?" Jack asked, quietly. His mind was still on the conversation that had occurred between him and his crew.

"I'm not sure. . ." Sophia's eyes widened as she remembered why she had ventured from her cabin. _Only to see if I could hurry up the treasure finding process, right? Of course. _"Oh. . ."

"Oh." Jack repeated, his hands waving vaguely. Sophia watched them. "Well, scurry on back to you're bed, then. I 'ave things t' do." He said dismissively.

"Um. . . could I come in for a bit, Jack? I may be able to help."

Jack turned his head sharply towards her, his expression calculating. How had she known he hadn't solved the riddle yet? "I thought you said you couldn't?"

Sophia shrugged, her voice quiet as she spoke and still somewhat groggy from sleep. "Truthfully, I don't actually know. It's not as if I have experience in the matter." She added wryly. Jack nodded, before swinging his door open and, very discourteously, left it ajar for her to close behind her. 

Sophia sat down, the wooden chair hard against her spine. Jack was seated at his desk, reclining casually in his chair, intent upon the curling piece of parchment in his hands. Sophia watched the curve of his torso as he slouched, stretched and contracting muscle. 

Jack broke the silence, reading softly from the parchment. "'A place named for th' oldest an' wisest of things.'"

Sophia knew, of course she knew, but when she opened her mouth to answer, all sound escaped her. She coughed, and attempted again, failing miserably. She hated the sensation of having no voice, of being silent and ignored by the world. "I. . . I can't, Jack. It won't let me." Jack looked at her from under heavy brows, watching with his dark eyes. Sophia lowered her gaze to the floor. 

He had not told anyone that he had already discovered the solution to on section of the riddle. 

_Most precious to any seaman,_

_A carrier of both gifts and ill news._

_She travels with the greatest of ease,_

_Although a swift tumult and swell_

_ Of unexpected affairs will fell her._

_My own will be the statement you require,_

_For strongest in her time she was._

Jack had solved this with ease; the word he needed was the name of Ektibar's ship. Jack smiled faintly in thought. A man after his own heart.

It had been late at night, as it always seemed to be when his mind was working at its best. With the help of his book and years of legends told, he now knew the name. _La Mujer Fatal_. The Fatal Woman. How ironic, Jack had thought. 

"La Mujer Fatal, aye?" He questioned, inspecting Sophia's reaction with care.

She glanced up, her eyes bright, nodding slightly. "That was his ship, I believe. You solved it?"

"'Course I did, love. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" 

"So I've heard," Sophia responded with a smile eloquent with dry humor. Jack watched her for a moment, motionless and silent, before rising to sway towards her, standing about a foot from her and leaning forward as to severely trespass her personal space, his eyes furrowed and focused fixedly upon her face.

"So you can't help me, then?" He asked, his voice several notches below its normal frequency. Once again, Sophia noticed a powerful, male scent and felt her insides twitch in reaction. Ashamed of her body's response to his proximity, she lowered her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"You're sure?" Jack cocked his head slightly, an intelligent and highly sly smile distractedly fixed upon his lips, his eyes still and locked on her face. He could see the flush across her neck and through the opening of her shirt down to the tops of her breasts, pink and inviting, and could almost hear the quickening of her breath. His fingers convulsed. He wanted to touch her.

Sophia opened her mouth to smartly reply "quite," but was silenced when his hot mouth covered her own, gentle and still insisting of her compliance. Sophia was ready this time, unlike their last hasty departing caress, the previous reaction of her body spurring her into submission. She knew the art of the kiss; she knew how to move in such a way as to drive her partner into a further state of passion, she knew how to tempt and tease, compel and dismiss. 

He was heat, seeping into her muscles and joints like a delectable potion, rouging her skin and liquefying her knees. The heat brought a sigh and a faint whimper to her lips, her hands raising to either side of his face, her fingers spread, feeling him and possessing him. She felt the vibration of his groan against her fingers, and his arms came around her, picking her up onto her feet and pressing her against him, her breasts, nipples upright and tingling, to his chest, his hips to her belly, lips to lips. The kiss was soft, but Sophia could tell that he would not keep it such for long, could feel his arousal growing against her stomach even in the short time of their embrace.

She was driving him crazy. Her lips yielding against his were enough, but her small, curving frame pressed to him would take him over the edge, he knew. Jack knew his limits and that he was fast approaching them. Already, his trousers had grown several sizes too small for the situation, his loins aching against the softness of her flesh.

He had to touch her skin. 

Sophia obeyed readily as he backed her against the wall, her spine arching at a sultry angle to the wooden boards, gasping when the rough warmth of his hands lifted her blouse to run across her belly, spanning the slender width of her waist. Her skin trembled beneath his touch, and Sophia succumbed to the fog of desire that overtook her mind, unknowing of all else. She shut her eyes.

She was so soft, perfect beneath his hands. She was everything, experienced, soft, innocent, practiced, and virginal in that she had never really known driving, bowel-wrenching passion. Jack continued to kiss her in an increasingly fervent manner, the caress rough and nearly painful against her lips, one hand departing from her skin to skirt the curve of her left breast with a practiced lightness, carefully avoiding the nipple, torturing, and inciting a moan from the back of her throat.

Sophia wanted him, hard and safe and hot, inside her very depths. Her belly felt light and airy, her womb constricted and ready in her desire. "Jack. . ." She breathed, tilting her head back as he left her shaking lips.  

That was enough, her voice, his name. Jack could not control himself much longer if she insisted on speaking in such a way, low and throaty with passion. His hips bucked forward, grinding her own to the wall. Sophia panted quietly as he peppered kisses across her jaw and throat, his mustache and goatee providing a coarse contrast to the softness of his lips. Her hands were moving over him now, his shoulders, his face, his chest. She delighted in fingering the bare skin in the V-neck of his shirt, dark and rough with sun. Slyly, Sophia shifted her thigh so that it brushed against his groin, the center of his lust. Jack groaned, pressing into her hips in a sort of perverse punishment, for that was exactly what she had wanted.

Jack heard her protesting whimper as his hands left her skin through his lust-filled haze, but ignored her, instead concentrating on the buttons of her blouse. Sophia shrugged halfway from her shirt once he had conquered several of the buttons, and Jack, finding that one smooth shoulder bared to him was too tempting to simply bypass, abandoned her blouse to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder. 

Sophia squeezed her eyes shut as Jack pressed hot kisses across her shoulder and the tops of her breast, her breath increasing its rhythm to a further extent. Quite suddenly, images of her house in Port Royal flashed in the blackness of her vision. Sophia realized what she would loose if she submitted to Jack's seduction and remaining on the Pearl.

Safety, home, a comfortable bed. Hot water, growing old comfortably, children (she still had hope). A husband, one that would love her past the time when old age wrinkled her skin and caused her body to sag. One that would not busy himself with common whores and drink.

Of course Jack noticed when Sophia grew still beneath his lips and touch, but by now would not have been able to stop if he tried. Her softness, her vulnerability, her strength, her body, they were all pushing him into such a lustful trance that the world had blacked out around him and only she existed. He wanted to sink himself into her. 

"Jack. . . stop." What a contradictory command, with her body willing him to do just the opposite, to go further and further until there was no place left to reach.

Jack barely heard her, but mumbled against her collarbone in a non-committal response.

Sophia attempted to quell her body's desire. "Don't. . . I have to stop. . ." Firmly, she pressed her palm to Jack's shoulder, pushing him away, away from her. 

This, needless to say, got his attention. "Jesus, Sophie. Wha' is it?" He said, his voice a low growl of frustration, laden with the kind of hunger that shot a shiver up her spine.

"I can't, Jack. I'm sorry." He stared at her, his eyes black and expressionless. She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

Jack was working like the devil not to say anything, not to beg her to stay and cure the ache in his loins. Working not to tie her to the bed (again) and take her, possess her completely, her thighs shaking as she whimpered beneath his touch, her – _Stop, Jack._

Sophia stood quietly for several moments, leaning ever so slightly against him until her knees could support her once more. God, how she wanted to stay, to be warmed and tortured by the intoxication of his caress. With a faint sigh, she eased out from beneath his body, and thought she heard a faint grown vibrate from his throat as she left.

And so she left, shaking, as Jack touched her only with the heat of his eyes.

-

"Bloody 'ell." 

Jack pressed his forehead against the wall, his eyes shut as he willed the sexual energy to bleed from his veins. It didn't work. He would have to keep from doing. . . that again, because if she asked him to stop once more he didn't think he would be able to do so. No, Jack thought, glancing down at himself briefly with a sigh, most definitely not. 

For now, Jack concentrated on slowing his breathing and calming himself, allowing the adrenaline to fade away, even if his lust for Sophia did not. He wished he were in Tortuga, where a practical strumpet was always in hand for situations like these. In Tortuga –

_Tortuga._

Tortoise, in Spanish. 

Oldest and wisest of things. 

Jack remembered, from stories and fables his mother had read to him as a child, that the tortoise had always been the wise one, the mentor, always portrayed as impossibly old and knowing of the ways of the world. 

It had been right in front of his face the whole bloody time. 

Now, if he could only solve the secret of the mysterious woman who tempted him so and then left him to bleed, to lust for the eternity of the night.

-

A/N: Oh my fucking GOD. That was. . . erm. . . exhilarating. Oooohhh. . . *basks in the sexiness that is JACK*

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system, I can actually talk. I hope this meets your expectations for the first really sexy scene. I'm sorry to keep you guys hangin', and I know you all want them to finally get on with it, but this is all part of the plot, ladies and gents, and we all know how important that is. I couldn't have them screwing like little jackrabbits (haha, JACKrabbits) before they even knew where to _go _to find the treasure, now could I (don't hurt me)? I PROMISE that we will get to it. Sophia can't be a Jack-virgin forever. I think I created a new term. Jack-virgin. Funny.

So, how about Tortuga being the "key" town? Unexpected much?

Once again, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers. I can't do it without you guys! 100+ reviews! That's AWSOME! **AJ-Sparrow **(I know, I couldn't resist the shirtless thing)**, DaydreamBeliever14 **(Ha, me too. Oooh, you're so faithful, much kisses!)**, SparrowPhoenix **(Long chapters = gift/curse. Thanks!)**, sakhara291 **(I can always count on you. Thanks much.)**, Anaknusan **(As I have said numerous times: hookedness is a good thing!)**, Cayenne Pepper Powder **(Waiting, still waiting. Sorry!)**, zigzag **(love ya, darlin'! E-mails are goood.)**, CrazyCanoeingGIT **(Bad me! No Norrington sympathy – I'll remember)**, **and **A.H Smith **(Cramming is much badness. Thanks!). I love you and thank you all!

Also, I'm going to MARCH FOR WOMEN'S RIGHTS (yay!) this weekend in Washington, D.C., so I won't be able to write on the weekend, and it may take a bit longer to write the next chapter. Sorry! 


	17. Sun and Storm

Chapter: Sun and Storm

-

Sophia stared at nothing a long time before she actually woke. She'd dreamed of Jack again. 

With a groan, Sophia sat up, her crumpled sheets falling into her lap, and ran a hand over her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her lips were tender and somewhat swollen, she noticed, as she touched the pad of her finger against her mouth. The kisses had been hard. 

Sophia let the bedding lie untouched and unmade as she slipped into a mid-calf length skirt of rough fabric, simply tucking the shirt she had slept in into the waist. She closed the door of her cabin quietly after stepping out into the red of the rising sun. Her body felt tired and taxed of its strength, as if she had never stopped Jack's advances and their bodies had been straining and arching all throughout the night, together, warm, satisfied. Sophia shivered. 

Immediately Sophia noticed a change in the crew. Chatting animatedly amongst themselves, the men were smiling, interested, and even amidst the already sweltering heat of the morning. Sophia heard snippets of their conversations.

". . .won't even bloody tell us where we headed. . ."

"Ektibar? Jesus, mate. S'posed t' be nothin' but bleedin' nonsense. . ."

". . .'e says he knows where it is. . . 'e is th' captain. . ."

"He _is_ a bit daft, mind you. I don' really trust. . ."

Sophia raised an eyebrow mildly. So Jack had finally discovered were the treasure was hidden, and had told the crew that they were after it, but not where they actually were going. 

Carefully skirting the crowd, Sophia wandered over to sit at the mast, her back resting against the sturdy column of wood. She picked up the vast sail that still sported a rip down the center from several months ago, found a needle stuck within the canvas, and set to work, her mind drifting as she methodically sewed up the rent.

Sophia's father had told her that Tortuga was barely a town when Bernardo Ektibar had come upon it. It was the perfect place to hide the treasure of a lifetime, with steep, jagged sides with only a narrow path to lead adventurers and wandering drunks. Many caves, both small and massive, littered the slopes. 

Thoughts of Tortuga led her to thoughts of home, and thoughts of home led her to thoughts of the night before, when such thoughts kept her from following her body's desire. These connections were made very fast, and Sophia could barely keep up with her mind. It was all very confusing, she thought, as she shook her head and continued to sew.

A shadow fell across the sail that she was mending. Sophia looked up, blinking. It was Jack, and he was staring down at her with an expression void of any acknowledgement, his eyes dark and veiled. Sophia rose slowly to her feet, leaving the sail on the deck.

"Jack. . ." She began softly, her hands fidgeting awkwardly in front of her, her eyes focused intently over his shoulder. His closeness was making her very uncomfortable, and a strange heat was rising from between her breasts and across her chest and neck. She prayed that she was not blushing. 

"It's Tortuga, aye?" He asked, his voice a gruff rumble, lowered so that the crew would not overhear them. Jack was concentrating very hard on Sophia's expression and reaction, rather than the actual contours of her face, his brow furrowed and eyes sharp as he awaited her reaction. He didn't let his eyes fall below her chin, and considered this a great feat indeed. 

Sophia, having expected her affirmative movements and speech to be inhibited by her curse, was surprised at her ability to nod. "It is, yes," she answered slowly. She could feel the familiar bout of anger swell in her chest in response to his bluntly coarse demeanor, but pushed the rising tantrum out of her mind. It was not the time. 

Much to Sophia's shock, Jack flashed her a cheerful, lop-sided grin, a flash of gold, and patted her cheek with a calloused palm. "Tha's me girl. Mending th' sails, aye?" 

Sophia nodded again, a brow raised in disbelief. How could he act as if nothing had changed? She could feel the heat rising between their bodies, although Jack stood nearly a yard from her, and could almost see the strain and tension in his eyes. 

"Ah. . . very good. Mus' be off, now," said Jack, turning on the heel of his boot and striding away in his own swaying gait, very much aware of Sophia's incredulous stare at his back. 

Jack exhaled slowly once he was out of Sophia's earshot and line of sight, running a hand over his forehead and letting his palms come to rest over his eyes. Blessed darkness, everything blank. Every muscle in his body was tight with unspent energy, both sexual and otherwise, his belly twisting with need and nerves. This was going to be a long trip.

"Damn woman."

-

Sophia resigned herself to a passive attitude when conversations of the Fortunes and The Black Pearl's destination arose at supper that night. In response to her uncharacteristic silence, the men were shooting her very strange looks over the table, to which Sophia ignored, her attention focused solely on the gray sort of stew that was being served on this particular evening. She had carefully chosen a seat far away from Jack; she didn't want to cope with his unnerving cheerfulness. In fact, she didn't want to cope with much of anything at the moment, and was mulling over a steadily growing threat in her mind.

Sophia knew the reason that Jack did not reveal that the Fortunes of Ektibar were hidden, rather ironically so, in Tortuga – she was not so ignorant in the ways of sailors as that. Give up the bearings, and you give up your safety. The crew could snatch their fingers around the position of the treasure nad run, leaving their captain marooned on a lone stretch of sand with nothing but blue expanses of water for company.

But what if Jack had let slip that she was the key to finding Ektibar's treasure?

Kidnapped, tortured, her father's secrets beaten out of her by those she trusted, her crewmates. Solely responsible for Jack's starvation on a desolate island.

Raped.

Sophia narrowed her eyes at Jack across the table, their depths dark and stormy with suspicion.

Would he do such a thing?

-

Sophia found it difficult not to eavesdrop on her companions as she ate, for she was seated in a rather secluded area well out of Jack's earshot and some of the talk was less trustworthy than it should have been.

"I don' know. . . 'm sure Jack means well an' all, but the bloody Fortunes of Ektibar? The men who go after tha' are s'posed t' be raving mad," whispered Thandor, leaning forward on the table as to converse more privately with his company.

"I'm givin' it a week or two. If we don' come on somethin' by then, I'm goin' to round up some of the man an' confront th' captain. I daresay many of them'll be willin' to give 'im a talkin' to. They're not too happy with this Ektibar business. It'd be right wonderful if it's true an' all, but so many men have tried lookin' fer it, an' they. . . well. . ." Caliso trailed off, eyes shifting downwards. Sophia knew he would be thinking of the fates of the men who had tried to find The Fortunes of Ektibar. Starvation, drowning, madness. . . 

"Confront?" Sophia interjected hastily, worry adding an edge to her voice.

Caliso glanced at her, his expression calculating, and Sophia had the distinct impression that he had forgotten she was there, and if he had not he wouldn't be discussing this matter so freely. After a moment, he spoke, in a strange light sort of tone, as if dodging around the subject. "Not anythin' violent, Sophia. Don' worry your pretty little 'ead; we won't let anythin' 'appen to ye." He flashed her a grin.

Sophia eyed him warily. She didn't speak for the remainder of the supper and the men returned to topics of a more untroubled manner.

-

Jack sucked in his breath harshly as Sophia stormed into his cabin later that night, paying no heed when the door smashed into the wall due to her forcefulness. Concealing his surprise and ignoring the stirring in his gut, Jack plastered a cheeky grin on his face and rose to meet her, his eyes flicking casually to the spot on the wall that Sophia had been pushed up against the night before, damp with desire and rubbing herself against him like a contented cat. 

But he mustn't think about that right now. 

Sophia's face was the picture of fright and anger, but, Jack noticed, it was the sort of anger that a woman worked herself towards and built upon herself, and was not spurred by a direct action or insult. 

"Sophie –" he began.

"Did you tell them that I was the key to finding it?" She interrupted bluntly, her voice shaking with what Jack was sure was fear. 

And it would be fear, he realized. Her knowledge and understanding of the treasure was what caused her kidnapping and rape. 

Jack adopted an easy tone, hands hovering erratically as he spoke. "'Course not, love. 'Woulda thought you, of all people, would know tha' Captain Jack Sparrow's not _that _daft."

Sophia let out a sigh, her face relaxing into an expression of weary relief. It was only then that she realized that she had barged into Jack's cabin without knocking and was now inside – alone – with just him, in the very room in which, just last night, they had engaged in their less than reputable act. Her eyes widened.

"Oh. . . good. I just wanted to be sure," she said lamely, "er. . . I'll be leaving now, I suppose."

Jack smiled faintly at her obvious discomfort, and found himself gazing at the slender column of her neck as she turned to leave, but after several moments hastily averted his gaze. 

Sophia stopped moving, her fingertips poised upon the doorknob and ready to turn, as she heard a strange clattering of something on the roof. It was not stopping.

-

Hail.

Sophia held up a hand to shield the whipping of wind and hailstones from her face, following Jack as he strode quickly towards the bow of the ship, leaning over the edge as he arrived. Jack did not shelter his face from the weather, but was looking up at the churning of dark clouds within the sky, his eyes squinted and face rapt with concentration.

Gibbs skidded on the hailstones that were accumulating rapidly on the deck as he came to join them. "Strange weather we be havin', eh?"

Jack did not answer him, and continued to gaze at the sky. Sophia shifted her gaze from the clouds to Jack's face, searching his expression for any clues concerning the rather absurd situation. Hail continued to rain down upon them, the small stones pattering across the deck and pinging off metal.

After a long while Jack turned to her, an expression of grim determination on his face, although his lips were twisting into a slightly maniacal grin. There was a strange sort of glint in his eyes, as though he couldn't wait to meet whatever had captured his attention so in the heavens. Sophia's eyes widened slightly.

"There's a storm comin'."

-

A/N: Finally! Another chapter! Even if it is one of my "transition chapters," as I like to call them. Anyway, I'm sorry I sort of disappeared. The march (it was completely and insanely awesome, by the way) and school sort of escalated and a week had gone by and I hadn't started another chapter. Shame on me. 

I know you are all saying "Get on with it, dear. We want some nookie!" but you'll have to wait. Important things have to happen before that can. Storm, first _big_ argument, lost forever in an eternal deathtrap of roiling seas (well, maybe not), for instance. 

The "contented cat" comparison to desire is not mine, I'm afraid, but belongs to Philippa Gregory, the author of _The Queen's Fool_ (wonderful book, by the way).

Thank you to the readers, of course. I'm amazed at all of the reviews!  

nbsp;


	18. Poseidon's Wrath

Chapter: Poseidon's Wrath

-

_Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story_

_of that man skilled in all ways of contending,_

_the wanderer, harried for years on end,_

_after he plundered the stronghold_

_on the proud height of Troy. _

_– The Odyssey, Homer_

-

The ship was rocking so terribly that Sophia fully expected it to capsize at any moment. Wind was howling; she could hear it even through the thick wooden walls of Jack's cabin. The air had turned thick and wet and heavy with energy, and Sophia felt as if each breath was bringing her further to suffocation.

Jack had forbidden her to step foot outside and into the storm. Sophia had argued, albeit halfheartedly, against that in the minutes of calm they had before the salty spray of the squall hit them. She didn't fancy being washed into the swirl of ebony and indigo that was the ocean with the roaring of the wind in her ears.

For Sophia, drowning would be a painful death.

So she braced herself against a wall and tried to fight the rising bile in her throat, waiting for the tempest to grow bored with her play.

-

Jack was well known for his skill in holding the course during a storm, but this particular gale was proving to be a challenge.

His knuckles were growing white and his arm beginning to shake from the force it took to hold the wheel stationary. The hale had melted into a full-blown rainstorm, and the wind was whipping water into his eyes. He didn't bother to shout orders to his crew; they wouldn't have been able to hear him even if he did, and he trusted their ability fully.

Jack stood with his legs spread apart, steadying him amidst the roiling of the ship, shoulders drawn forward against the wind. Water was streaming off the brim of his hat in bleary sheets.

And still, he held the ship onto its course. Strangely, Jack's mind often wandered at times like these, the times in which his life was most in danger, when the risk was great and standing before him like an endless vortex of black. He thought of the fortune that awaited him on the familiar island of Tortuga. He thought of Will, caring for his child and suffering the loss of Elizabeth. He thought of his complete isolation on that bloody island, and the unexpected lonesomeness that had crept into his being.

And then he remembered Sophia and her touch.

-

Sophia curled into a tight ball on Jack's bed, breathing in deep, somewhat shaky sighs and trying to ignore the sound of saturated boots slapping against the equally saturated deck just outside the door. She closed her eyes and the rocking of the ship became somehow safe, as if she was being held by a mother in the sea of nothing behind her eyelids.

She could smell him as she rested her head against the pillow, a heady scent full of spice and sea and sensual ecstasy that encompassed her mind and the black before her eyes completely, taking over all other thoughts without mercy. Sophia shifted, drawing her arms closer around herself as a chill of gooseflesh and sex washed through her body.

Her eyes snapped open, a crimson flush coloring her cheeks as she realized that the now familiar clenching sensation in her gut had arrived, bringing with it a hot dampness between her legs. Desire. Lust. Sophia pushed the thoughts from her mind and sat up, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for only a moment in a sudden onslaught of exhaustion.

The storm was subsiding; she could feel the rocking of the ship beginning to decrease in intensity. How long had it been? Three hours, four? The closeness of the room overshadowed all perspective of time.

Sophia lay down on the bed once more, bringing her knees up to her chest to combat the shivers of cold that had begun to wash over her body. It was not long before she was asleep.

-

The storm was finally over. Jack left the helm only after he was sure that Anamaria could handle any minor squalls that might surface. He was swaying with exhaustion and soaked through.

Jack blinked as he sighted the body that was curled up on his bed, clearing his vision of the bleary film of fatigue. It was Sophia, huddled into the far corner of the mattress, her back facing him. He could see the delicate curve of her spine beneath the fabric of her shirt. Jack sighed in frustration.

Would he ever be rid of this temptation?

Quietly, he discarded his wet clothes in exchange for drier ones, simply not caring if Sophia awoke to find him half naked. He was far too tired to worry about such matters.

Jack considered waking her then with a snide comment about finally sleeping in his bed, and guiding her back to her cabin like a virtuous man. Then again, Jack had never been virtuous, and one look at her slumbering face – cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, hair coming loose from its bun and draping in curling tendrils across her closed eyes, lips parted, pink like carefully sculpted rose-petals – convinced him yet further.

So he clambered into bed next to her, watching for a moment before reaching upwards to brush a strand of that black, black hair from her eyes. Lightly, his fingertips lowered to trace the outline of her lips and then down lower, spanning the column of her neck. She heaved a breathy sigh in her sleep. Jack decided he'd better stop there lest he loose control, and so, hesitantly, he rolled over and fell asleep.

Even in his dreams he was aware of Sophia's presence beside him.

She was always there.

-

Sophia awoke warm, encased in a comfort that was unfamiliar to her. She had grown accustomed to waking up to damp, clammy air and chills. This was good, what she felt now. Right.

She creaked an eye open, glancing at her surroundings through her eyelashes. She was in Jack's cabin, that she remembered. Sophia shifted slightly, surprised to find a body pressed against her, his chest, for the person was a man, to her back and her behind resting, quite comfortably, against his hips. A rough, warm hand had slipped up her shirt sometime during the night and was now resting on her ribcage, just below her left breast, a firm reminder of his possession over her in this stance. Sophia stiffened slightly as a delayed revelation hit her

It was Jack. She was in his bed, after all. Sophia assured herself fervently that nothing had occurred last night that should not have. She remained motionless, silently debating her options. She could completely explode in a fit of rage and risk many more days or even weeks of uncomfortable silences and disjointed conversations, or she could quietly ease out from Jack's embrace and sneak from the room, enduring none of said awkward situations. Sophia decided that the latter choice would suit her much better.

But she didn't want to move. It was so nice, such a change from the isolation she had been suffering from on the ship. She felt contented, satiated.

Nevertheless, Sophia slid towards the wall, sighing as she felt Jack's grip around her waist tighten. She carefully plucked his hand from her skin, letting it drop on the bed. Jack grunted quietly and rolled over.

Sophia padded out of the cabin and into the cold.

-

Jack joined Sophia on the deck not soon after she had left his bed. The sun was just beginning to rise, silhouetting her against the red of the horizon. Jack noticed with troubled eyes that there was not a breath of wind; the sea looked like rosy glass.

She was leaning against the railing at the bow, her elbows supporting her weight, her face possessing an eerily beautiful crimson glow due to the sunrise. Jack walked up from behind, mimicking her stance beside her. It was a comfortable silence.

Jack could guess what she'd woken to, for he was accustomed to the company of the fairer sex, specifically in bed, and usually managed to have an arm or leg thrown across them in the morning after their "games". He was grateful that she had not woken him to a temper and screams, but instead had quietly slipped out.

She understood his ways at the strangest of times, and at others seemed to have no sympathy at all. He was still, after all this time, only beginning to understand her.

Sophia knew it was Jack without ever having to turn her head to look at him. Slowly, she reached down to touch his hand, her white fingertips only brushing his brown knuckles. And yet, she knew he would understand that she would not hold their waking arrangement against him.

Jack smiled faintly. They had been coexisting in an uneasy truce since their last kiss, but it seemed, however strange and backward it was, that spending the night in one another's arms had resolved their problem.

Sophia broke the silence after several more moments, her voice barely a whisper. "Rhododaktulos Eos."

Jack's smile grew to a grin, and, finally, he turned to face her, only to find her gazing wistfully out to sea, the red horizon reflected in the steel of her eyes. "You've been reading Homer, Sophie."

"Yes."

Jack was silent for a moment. "D'you miss him?"

Sophia sighed. "I miss my home. I miss trees and being able to _run_. I miss. . . God help me, I miss the dog that digs up my flowers. Do I miss James?" She dropped her head. Jack could see tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, tiny crystals of mindless gleam. Tears meant nothing on this ship, and nothing could be done to dry them. One would find no solace at sea. Jack waited for her to speak.

"I don't know, Jack. Sometimes I miss him so much my heart aches, but sometimes," _When I'm around you, _"I don't even think of him." Sophia trailed off, growing silent in her confusion, before suddenly turning to him. "Do you think that is wrong?"

Jack grinned, a flash of gold against the red of the sky. "I don't 'ave much experience, love, but I think tha' 's alright t' forget for a time. . . else you'd go mad, wouldn't you?"

Sophia nodded, smiling. "Yes. I think you would."

-

They were becalmed. Not a ripple of wind could be found across the glassy surface of the water, and the Black Pearl's sails were limp and dragging. The crew was antsy.

After Sophia had finished her work she took a walk, reacquainting herself with the Pearl. She was just going down the stairs that led to the crew's barracks when she overheard a conversation between several men around the corner.

"It's been a couple o' weeks now. . ."

"I know, mate, an' the storm las' night was th' worst we seen in a while. Now we's becalmed, who knows how long this's goin' t' last."

A third voice. "Wha' proof does Jack even 'ave that Ektibar's fortune even exists?"

"None, that's what."

"I'm waitin' a day or two for th' wind t' pick up, and if it doesn't. . . well, I hate t' do it t' Jack, but there's only so much a man can take, an' I think most o' the others would agree with me."

Sophia had heard enough.

-

Sophia burst through Jack's cabin door in a flurry of movement and frustration. Jack glanced at her mildly. "Wha's wrong, Sophie?"

Sophia was breathless from unrest. "They're turning against you, Jack."

Jack shot her a calculating look from his seat at this desk where he was carefully mapping their route. "Who is?"

"The bloody crew, Jack! They're talking about mutiny, for Christ's sake!"

Sophia watched as Jack remained perfectly collected, but only someone who knew him as well as she did would notice the hint of fear that flashed in his eyes. He didn't speak, so Sophia continued.

"What did you expect? That they would accept this tale of yours? Half of them don't even believe the Fortunes exist. And with all the bad luck we've been having. . . they're talking about _days_, Jack. Why won't you at least tell them that we're going to Tortuga?"

Jack furrowed his brow, rising from his chair to stalk stiffly towards her. He didn't like admitting a weakness. The knowledge of their destination was his leverage, his defense against mutiny. "You know why, Sophia."

"This is becoming ridiculous, Jack. If I didn't know better, I would say you were paranoid. If you would only _tell _them something so that they wouldn't be sailing blind this could be solved."

"No. They won't mutiny as long as I'm th' only man on this ship tha' knows were their treasure is."

"They don't care about finding treasure anymore, Jack. They just want to get home and walk on land again."

Jack turned and walked back to his desk. "I'm th' captain o' this ship, Sophia."

Sophia stared at him, before muttering quietly to herself, "Honestly, if you acted like this the first time I think you may have deserved it."

It was a near whisper and Sophia had only really meant it in jest, but she could tell Jack heard it. He stopped moving, and she saw anger move in waves across the muscles of his shoulders and arms. She had finally gone to far.

Jack swiveled on his heel, and Sophia nearly cowered at the rage and betrayal in his eyes, flashing like amber fire in black. He strode quickly towards her, and –

_CRACK_.

Sophia stumbled sideways from the force of his blow and brought a hand up to her right cheek, her eyes stinging with pain.

"_No one_. . . no one deserves that," Jack hissed. He stood, chest heaving, the back of his right hand smarting. The little _snake. _Her comment had struck him deep, piercing a nerve deep in his heart that sent anger writhing through his limbs like a poison. But then, then he looked at her, his anger dissipating immediately as he spied the hurt and mistrust in her eyes. Jack had never struck a woman before. "Sophie. . ." He stepped towards her.

"You bastard," Sophia spat, rising to her full height and arching her arm through the air to connect soundly with his cheek in return for his blow. The resulting smack was nearly as loud as his had been.

Jack nodded slightly as his cheek quickly reddened to match the hue of hers, wholly accepting her reaction. He deserved much worse. Jack dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sophie." Carefully, he raised his hand to trace a finger across the angry red mark on her cheek. She winced, but did not stop him.

Sophia was still reeling from what had just happened. She could feel his fingers, light and cautious as butterfly wings, on her cheekbone. "If you _ever_ do that again, so help me God, I will cut off what makes you a man while you sleep, Jack."

Jack smiled faintly at that. "Aye."

Sophia stepped closer to him, resting a palm on his shoulder as she inspected the soon-to-be-forming bruise on his cheek. "I should congratulate myself on a job well done, I think."

"Tha' was a good one, love. You've put Anamaria t' shame," Jack admitted, grinning.

Sophia was amazed to find herself lost in his eyes, yet again. He was searching her, looking for a hint about her reaction. She knew she should be feeling repulsed. This was a man who had struck her, who had hurt her. . . but she also knew he was a good person.

"I'm not sorry for that," Sophia placed the pad of her index finger against his inflamed cheek. "but I am sorry for what I said. It was. . . cruel," she breathed.

Jack trembled as her breath washed over his neck. How he wanted her. . . wanted to be inside her. Her close proximity was torture.

Sophia watched as a muscle worked in Jack's jaw. He had such a beautiful face, full of angles and perfect curves and black eyes. She was ready. Home was a distant memory now, meaningless hope. This man, he was reality.

Very slowly, Sophia tilted her head to kiss him.

-

_He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men,_

_and weathered many bitter nights and days_

_in his deep heart at sea, while he fought only_

_to save his life, to bring his shipmates home,_

_But not by will nor valor could he save them,_

_For their own recklessness destroyed them all._

_-- The Odyssey, Homer_

-

A/N: It's a little eerie how similar those sections from The Odyssey reflect Jack's life, huh?

Oh. . . If Sophia's cruel, I'm downright evil for leaving you guys like this. Sorry, but its late and I want to get this out before I fall asleep. Sorry it's taken so long, again. I'm trying, I promise! I really like this chapter, actually. There's really no dialogue in the first half, but I think it suits the mood.

Thanks to my reviewers. I love you all.

Educational Note: "Rhododaktulos Eos" means "rosy-fingered Dawn" in Greek. As many of you might know, this adjective saying is one often used in Homer's poetry, as is "clear-headed Telemakhos" or "grey-eyed Athena." Dawn is capitalized because it refers to the goddess of the dawn, and not dawn itself. "Rosy-fingered Dawn" is often used in other contexts, such as "When Dawn spread out her finger tips of rose. . ."

Now, everyone go read The Odyssey! Kidding, kidding. (You should, though. . . hehe.)


	19. To Succumb

(Ahem! Attención, por favor. This chapter is the reason why this story is rated R. So, if you don't like it don't read it. Although, I'm pretty sure you will all read it [You have waited for 18 chapters, after all.])

Chapter: To Succumb

-

_Virtuous women did not open their mouths in paintings.  
__-- Girl With a Pearl Earring, Tracy Chevalier_

-

The Black Pearl floated, soundless and still, on the glassy surface of the sea. Sailors considered nights like this, when the moon was not out and the water was black and seeming to be fathomless in measure, to be unlucky. No wind in a black night is never a good thing, they say, so the crew flitted from room to room with a sense of urgency and superstition. The captain was nowhere to be seen.

A flickering of lamplight could be seen from within the captain's quarters, however. A flash and dim of amber light, bathing the two lovers, like mobilized Greek statues, in gold.

-

Glistening skin, murmured words – Sophia was intoxicated by it all.

She traced her fingertips across Jack's chest and along the faint dividing lines of muscle that flexed when he moved. His kisses were sharp and pleasing and urgent, and spurred her to tremble with the desire that she had suppressed for so long.

Sophia simply let go, buried all thoughts in the back of her mind besides those concerning this man. She didn't think of the work she would have to complete tomorrow, or of Port Royal, a home that she was not sure she wanted to return to. She didn't think of the husband who had never caused her to tremble like she was now, to desire.

Jack was working at the buttons of her blouse, kissing the newly exposed skin as he went, down the valley between her breasts and then past her navel, stopping only at the waist of her trousers. The little sounds she was making were killing him, stretching his control like the dried seaweed he found on the beach as a child, ready to crack and crumble at the slightest touch. She was indefinitely beautiful in the lamplight as Jack slipped her shirt from her shoulders, and then cupped one palm under each breast, testing and experimenting with her body as only a well-seasoned man could, the frequency of her moans and quivers guiding him to her most sensitive points.

_Rapture_ was the first word that came to mind when Sophia thought of how Jack made love, always attentive and ready to do as she pleased. She never once closed her eyes, never faltered, even as he ran his calloused palms across her breasts and down the sides of her waist. Even when he touched her inside, his fingers and tongue inducing spasms of muscle and nerves all throughout her body. Sweet rapture.

And when he left the cleft between her legs and kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips, and then he truly owned her, owned her body and owned her taste. That kiss sucked her doubts and tension away, leaving her soulless and empty-shelled, but then he touched her breast or belly or thigh again and she was filled.

He moaned when she reached down and felt him, drawing a fingertip down his length, and she grew brazen with her success. She could see him convulse and his chest and arms grow rigid and could hear him breathing in small, short bursts of air through his nose. What wonderful power she had.

After that, she was content simply to lie in a haze of desire and pleasure while he teased her to the point of a climax. Yet she still held off; she wanted release while he was inside her.

When he sank into her, she felt a wonderful stretch and tightness and ache of muscles unused for months that made her head spin. And then he began to move, to torment her innermost depths. Sophia did not remember much after that, only the rising and building of ecstasy to heights she had never known, the rippling of her inner muscles and explosion of adrenaline and pleasure upon her devastating release, the flood of him inside her as her coming induced his.

Jack stayed poised over her several long moments after his climax, his body arched and motionless with his elbows supporting him on either side of her head, and watched her face as she experienced the after-effects of their coupling. She was beautiful in the most disastrous of ways. Jack had delighted in releasing her voluminous curls and running his hand down their length during their lovemaking, and the black locks now lay strewn across the bedding beneath them. She was gazing softly back at him and Jack knew that she'd never closed her eyes. Very gently he leaned down to kiss her, a chaste kiss but still full of emotion and the knowledge that he could bring her to the edge once more just as easily as he could steer his ship, and then withdrew, reclining out beside her and gathering her close to his chest.

Sophia was functioning in a dream. Her legs and belly felt as if they were made of jelly, loose and warm and fulfilled. She was happy, despite being away from home (where was home?) and isolated from civilization. She was content and tired and almost obscenely satisfied.

Sophia tilted her head from its resting place on Jack's shoulder to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered.

He was already asleep.

-

Sophia woke sometime during the night. The tiny window on the opposite wall was black, and the lamp had burned low so that just a tiny flame flickered within its glass cage.

Her perspiration and heat had evaporated, rendering her cold and shivering. Carefully, she reached down to draw a blanket around herself and the man that had his arm draped across her belly. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned towards her. Silently, Sophia examined his body.

He was lean and bronzed, not overly muscled like some of the men that worked on the ship but still obviously capable of holding his own. Flat muscles were visible along his back and chest from, Sophia assumed, clambering about on a ship, and his arms were strong and sinewy from climbing the riggings of his beloved Pearl. Sophia ran a fingertip down his spine and delighted in the slight grunt that sounded from his throat in response.

Sophia settled down to sleep again but then he was awake, rolling onto his side and grinning knowingly at her, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. Gently, he reached up to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. She looked soft and white against the coarseness of his bedclothes, like a china doll he had once seen in a street stall in Singapore.

"Wha' woke you?" His voice was gravelly from sleep.

"I was cold."

Slyly, he crept on top of her, covering her body with his heat. "Ah. Well, I should do somethin' about tha' , no?"

Sophia giggled like a schoolgirl. His weight on her felt wonderful, comforting and sexual all at once. But a thought crossed her mind, and she frowned.

"Wait, Jack. Let me, please?"

"Could any man refuse such a request as tha'?" Jack asked rhetorically, before obligingly rolling off of her with an increasingly devious grin.

Sophia rose to straddle his hips, leaning down to press a quiet kiss to his lips, her hair falling in a curtain around their heads as she caressed his lips at a leisurely gait before working her way downward. She simply experimented, tasting the salty skin of his shoulder, testing the texture of one nipple and then the other with her tongue, fingering the soft springiness of the few black hairs across his chest.

Then she went lower and took him into her mouth. She could hear a groan from Jack but it seemed distance, for now she only focused on the task at hand. She was creative, having never performed such an act before, and used her impulses to guide her. She was amazed at how her body responded to his arousal; she nearly as stimulated as he was.

Before she could bring him to a climax she felt a pair of hands on either side of her head that jerked her upwards. Jack's eyes were dark and stormy, his jaw clenched with tightly knit control.

"My turn now, love."

Jack was less careful with her this time, setting a faster rhythm and thrusting deeper, his touches rougher and his kisses harder, and Sophia loved every minute of it, every gasping, trembling, pounding minute.

-

Sophia woke and stretched like a great cat, groaning with pleasure as she felt her spine stretch and creak. It was only after she opened her eyes that she realized that the bed was empty. Jack had left.

She glanced out the little window and saw the sun shining brightly through the grimy glass, and guessed that it was nearly noon. She wished that she could stay naked in this bed for an eternity, and little cherubs with leafs covering their crotches would serve her grapes, wine and cheese and Jack would come back and they could make love for days on end. But, alas, she had work to do.

Sophia delighted in the pleasurable ache between her legs as she stood. How wonderful it was to be a woman and to have been cherished and attended to in the bed by a man who knew how to do so. She felt as if, now, on this morning, she was the epitome of femininity, shapely and desirable and satiated.

She slipped on her clothes (she had quite a hard time finding her pants – they were behind the bed), and padded, albeit stiffly, out into the sun.

Life on the Pearl was as it always had been, active and bright and energized. Sophia looked upwards, and noticed that the sails were full. A breeze was flowing again, and she could feel it in her hair, which she had not bothered to tie back, and across her skin, still salty from last night's (and this morning's, she thought mischievously) activities.

Jack was stationed, as usual, at the helm, and Sophia moved casually towards him, weaving her way through the crew as she went. Sophia allowed her fingertips to whisper across his shoulders before she came to stand beside him. She could see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but he still faced towards the sea.

"You slept late, Sophie."

"I had good reason."

Sophia smothered her mirth as she sensed a hint of pure masculine pride as those words left her mouth. "Aye, 'suppose you did," he commented, smirking smugly.

Sophia suppressed a denouncing comment in response to his cockiness, and instead planted herself in front of him to press her lips to his with an unexpected amount of zeal. This left Jack briefly speechless and gave her time to greet him formally. "Good morning, Jack."

Jack deemed this to not require a reply and remained silent, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her against his side, before his hand rose to her neck too finger the softness of her skin. Sophia, too, was mute for several moments before finally speaking.

"So, Captain, are we going to stop anywhere soon? I'm becoming terribly tired of this ship." She spoke as if in jest, but she was being truthful. The sea and the confinement of the ship's small rooms were starting to wear her down.

Jack grinned, glancing sideways but then reverting his gaze to the horizon lest he become distracted by the way her cloud of hair was floating about her face. "As a matter o' fact, we'll be comin' up on Port Ayude in several days."

Sophia was quiet, and Jack was about to repeat himself, sure that she had not heard, when she spoke.

"My uncle lives in Port Ayude."

-

_Barnum was quiet while Laura and Almanzo stood beside the buggy when Pa's song was finished. Then Laura held up her face in the faint moonlight. "You may kiss me good night," she said, and after their first kiss she went into the house while Almanzo drove away.  
__-- These Happy Golden Years, Laura Ingalls Wilder_

-

A/N: I hope you're all happy, 'cause I wrote this all in one night and stayed up half of said night to do so. I decided to make up all my horrendously late updates with one super short update, and I know all you guys were really waiting for this.

I'm certainly happy with it, and I hope no one's overly disgusted with me. I tried to make it not too descriptive but still get the feeling across that this is some pretty damn hot sex. Hehe, I'm funny sometimes, especially at two in the morning after I've had a lot of coffee.

By the way, from now on there will be a quote from one of my favorite books at the beginning and end of each chapter. Girl With a Pearl Earring is excellent and probably one of my favorite books of all time, and I don't really like the Laura Ingalls books anymore, but I used to read them a lot when I was a kid so they bring back memories. I thought that that little intercept was appropriate.

THANKS REVIEWERS!!!


	20. As a Ship Did Fall

Chapter: As a Ship Did Fall

-

_Then she was lost. For the trailer surged over her, scooping the horse toward the cab like a butterfly in a book and crushing it there in a final thunderous slam of metal._

_-- The Horse Whisperer, Nicholas Evans_

_-_

**-Aboard the Dauntless-**

The ocean stretched before him like a vast blue canvas, ready and waiting for the gouging marks that the hull of his ship would bring. During those months when he searched there were endless nights of drink and pain and then fretful sleep, all intertwined and anonymous like the ropes of a ship. But it was morning now, and those nights were behind him for the time being.

James Norrington watched the pirate ship that they were fast approaching, the hull skimming across the water like a frightened swallow. It was not _the _ship—no, the Black Pearl had eluded them for so long that he felt as if they would never find her—but, nevertheless, it was a pirate ship and pirates were outlaws and he was the law.

What a terrible profession, he'd thought some nights ago, to be the _law_. There are no variable rules for a commodore, only black and white and punishment.

The ship was small, and now they were close enough that he could read the name: The Scarlet Storm. They drew up beside the pirates.

A noise, deafening in its volume, and a shudder beneath his feet. The pirates had been ready, more capable than he had predicted. They fired again and again, and Norrington shouted orders to his crew's ears, although they were already deaf with panic.

His ship trembled and then collapsed, sloping into the sea with a groan. His beautiful, grand ship, his Dauntless.

Sophia was gone now, too. His hope of seeing her again, of loving her again, was shot into oblivion with the destruction of his life. She was lost to that pirate.

And, Norrington thought, just before the water took him, The Scarlet Storm was a rather fitting name for such a pirate ship. The water that he sank into was clouded with his own blood, a cloud of lost life, scarlet with abandoned hopes.

-

**-Aboard the Black Pearl-**

Jack had paid Sophia little mind when she revealed that her uncle lived in Port Ayuda; he'd been distracted by the way her hips and body were moving faintly to the rhythm of the ship as it streaked through the water, and she'd grown strangely silent, wandering off soon after.

He now sat, thinking mutely, on the narrow stairs that led to the captain's position at the bow of his ship. It had been far too difficult for his liking to leave Sophia, her small bulk shrouded in the sheets and a smile curving the lips that had enticed him so the night before, after he'd woken several hours before, and he had been very tempted to simply lie back down next to her, wrap an arm around her waist, and draw the warmth of her body to him again.

He could not afford to become emotionally involved in their relationship, for she was his captive and key to finding a treasure that he had only dared to dream of.

This was nothing but a physical relationship.

Now, if only he could convince his emotions that such was true things would go perfectly smoothly.

-

The feeling as if something was terribly wrong first assaulted Sophia's senses in the early morning and lasted well into the afternoon. She now shivered, rolling her shoulders quickly to rid her skin of the strange crawling sensation and trying to focus on the potatoes she was chopping for tonight's dinner.

Her mind wandered, not for the first time today, to her husband, and a swell of guilt rose in her chest. She was betraying him and their vows of marriage. And yet, her vision of James' face was growing fuzzy in her mind, instead replaced by the fascinating sights she had seen during her time on the ship, the members of the crew, the endless sea, and Jack.

Sophia smiled faintly and shivered again, although for a reason other than crawling skin.

Naught but fifteen minutes later, said pirate sauntered into the galley and stood at the entrance, his frame blocking the afternoon light's path through the doorway. He watched her hips sway to a melody that only she could hear and could feel his body already beginning to respond to both the sight and their close proximity, for the galley was small. Sophia noticed him only after he spoke.

"I think you've been choppin' potatoes quite long enough, love."

Slowly, Sophia set down her knife and turned around to face him, smiling slyly in response to his wayward grin. "You think?"

Jack didn't answer, instead striding quickly over to and, with a hand on either side of her waist, hoisted her up so that she was sitting on the counter, her thighs straddling his waist. Sophia landed hard on her rump with a faint grunt. "That hurt, Jack," she retorted, swatting his shoulder playfully.

Jack wasted no time and promptly buried his face in the soft place where her neck met her shoulders, his voice muffled as he spoke. Sophia could feel him smile against her skin. "'S been _hours_, Sophie. Bloody_ hours_."

Sophia gave a squeak, her eyes wide as she glanced quickly out the open door, waiting for someone to walk by and spy them. "It's the middle of the day, Jack! You can't expect—"

He silenced her with a sound kiss, his tongue probing about her mouth, simply tasting and remembering her sweetness. He allowed his fingertips to toy idly with her nipple beneath the thin cotton blouse and pressed his pelvis and noticeable arousal into Sophia's own hips.

Despite her insecurities, Sophia let out a soft moan.

Jack reached backwards with a booted foot to shut the door.

-

Like _had been replaced by _love_. And love was the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never gone. And responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing—love. That which was given unto him did he return. This was a god indeed, a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light White Fang's nature expanded as a flower expands in the sun._

_-- White Fang, Jack London_

_-_

A/N: I am soooo sorry for both the horrendous wait that you all had to endure and the OBSCENE shortness of this chapter, in which nothing much happened except for poor Norrington getting the old fly swat—I don't consider this much of a loss or a major plot event at all, mind you. The combination of awful finals ("We can't just have a test like all the normal people," the teachers say, "we have to give you overly-stressed teenagers yet MORE projects that last months and take up astonishing amounts of time!") and computer troubles account for this. I feel thoroughly ashamed and, at this very moment, am hitting myself on the head with a rather large dictionary as punishment for my lateness because you all can't come here and do it for me.

The reason I can't write more for this chapter is that I have to get up at three in the morning to get on a plane tomorrow and it's already 11:00. Four hours is not sufficient sleep time.

Speaking of planes (don't kill me), I'm leaving for Hawaii for two weeks tomorrow. What luck that right after I finish school and actually have time to write, I have to leave. I apologize repeatedly for my terrible. . . terribleness. So I should have a chapter up again in 2 ½ to 3 weeks. I'll try to write a little when I'm on vacation but I won't have access to a computer and a really don't like writing my stuff by hand. I'm SO sorry.

Good news for me: by this time tomorrow, I'll be digging my toes into Hawaiian sand!

(Again, don't kill me.)


	21. Reassuring Port Ayuda

Chapter: Reassuring Port Ayuda

-

_He walked out of the hospital into the sun, into open air for the first time in months, out of the green-lit rooms that lay like glass in his mind. He stood there breathing everything in, the hurry of everyone. First, he thought, I need shoes with rubber on the bottom. I need _gelato_._

_-- The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje_

-

The short time before The Black Pearl docked at Port Ayuda rested sweetly in Sophia's memory, soft and wonderful as skin. The daylight hours were for the most part carefree, with little complaints from the crew concerning Jack's captaining skills now that they knew that the ship was to dock. Sophia was left, for the most part, to herself.

Once the sun disappeared over the horizon the night was captivated completely by an unexpected sexual awakening that encompassed both her mind and body with a fiery passion so intense she had yet to comprehend its depth and ability to imprint itself into her very soul.

Jack was a diligent—not to mention skilled—lover, but left all sentimental aspects of their relationship to dust. _Caring_ was out of the question, and Sophia knew this simply by his attitude and never approached the subject, leaving it to fester. At the beginning, this had not bothered her much, mainly for the reason that she was still basking in the aftermath of their lovemaking in the morning and scarcely noticed his casual stance. After several days, however, she grew tired of being left in his bed with barely a word said between them, let alone a kiss, except for when Jack suggested she mend the sail that tore the week before or scrub the galley floor that some nameless cabin boy had spilt an entire case of rum over.

She was beginning to feel like a whore. A very satisfied and uncharacteristically happy whore, but a whore all the same.

But this she forgot on the morning of their arrival at Port Ayuda as she lay curled on her side, back pressed against the comforting plain of Jack's chest, eyes wide and bloodshot from fatigue, wondering if she would see her family once they docked. The question had been nagging at her since she learned they were to stop at the port, but it was not until this morning that the nag had transformed into a full-fledged molestation.

What would she _do_? Run, smiling and laughing in relief, into her uncle's arms, begging to be saved from the dreaded pirates? Was she to wait to be taken into their excessively gigantic mansion and return to her life as it was, drab and regular as unsalted bread? She didn't think so, for she was not sure she even _wanted_ to be saved from this "dreaded" ship and its crew. It was not as if Jack would even let her leave; she was still his means to the Fortunes of Ektibar, despite the change in their affiliation. She was a willing captive.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Jack roused, murmuring an incoherent something in a tone gravelly from sleep, his breath hot against the back of her neck. There was silence, and then a soft "ah," said somewhat matter-of-factly, as if it took him a moment to remember where he was and why Sophia was in bed beside him and, when he did, he congratulated himself in the infuriating way the male sex does. Sophia rolled her eyes but a smile quirked at the edge of her lips nonetheless.

Jack knew that Sophia was debating upon a subject much more serious than simply when to roll over and meet him with the warmth of her eyes. The curved lines of her body beneath the thin blanket were hardened in a manner that suggested she had not been sleeping. Edging closer to her, he ran a palm over her bare shoulder, down the length of her waist, and over the delicious swell of her hips that was particularly accentuated as she lay on her side. He rapidly decided that he would work her tense muscles into softness if it killed him, despite the fact that it was morning and they would be docking in several hours. She was unresponsive to his touch for the only time since he'd first bedded her.

Sophia squirmed as Jack began to lay mild but demanding kisses on her shoulders and neck. Regardless of the tremble-inducing contrast between the softness of his lips and his unshaven cheeks, she rolled over to face him and placed her fingertips against his mouth, almost laughing at the wide disbelief in his eyes. Save for their first fiery kiss, she'd never refused him.

"Not now, Jack. I'm sorry, but there's far too much on my mind."

Jack grumbled resentfully at having to calm the lust that caused his blood to race, but did not protest. Much. "But, Sophie, I—"

"No," she declared stubbornly, with an amused smile that she could not quell, much to Jack's annoyance. Deeming her a lost cause, he rose from the bed without a word and hopped carelessly into his trousers, eyeing her all the while.

"Are you thinkin' about yer uncle?" Keeping in mind that it was the day she could possibly see this mysterious family member of which Sophia had told him so little, he could only guess that this was the subject that plagued her.

Sophia had yet to discover how Jack could be so perceptive at times and absolutely thick at others. "Of course I am, you nitwit." Despite the insult, she spoke fondly. "I'm wondering if I should try to escape," she joked, but the smile she shot him did not quite reach her eyes, which remained troubled.

Jack returned her smile with a quick, lop-sided grin, before growing serious. "I'm not goin' t' let you leave, love."

Sophia's stomach lurched.

Jack cursed himself and cringed inwardly as he realized his mistake. He could not care for her more than the way of informal friends. "You're me key to Ektibar," he added quickly and with forced casualness.

Sophia nodded, quietly answering with a meek "Yes," and glancing down at her lap where her hands lay twisted like old rags. _Of course._

Jack shrugged on his shirt and patted her cheek in recognition. Then, mutely, he strode out the door like mist.

-

Port Ayuda was very much like Nassau, except, Sophia thought, the section of town intended for the "lower class" contained fewer prostitutes, less obscenely unhygienic pubs/brothels, and a reduced amount of overall filth. In other words, after surviving Tortuga, she found Ayuda to be almost pleasant.

Jack steadfastly insisted that she sleep on the ship while they were docked due to the less gentlemanly sort that would ravage her "into th' mornin' hours if given th' chance," assuring her that he would never stray too far. Sophia had trouble taking his promise too seriously; she knew his reputation with women in each and every town. Nevertheless, she submitted. Her fear of rape was still an occasional menace.

Despite this, she convinced Jack to take her to one of the cleaner lodgings. She wanted a hot bath.

-

The woman at the front desk to one look at Jack and, surprisingly, greeted him warmly with a suffocating hug, her enormous body and fleshy arms almost enveloping his stiff body. "Jack! It's been far too long, dear. Where've you been that's so important that you can't spare a day to come visit your old auntie Nellie?" She questioned, her tone unexplainably motherly. Sophia's jaw dropped.

"'Ello, Nell," Jack replied, grinning widely. "I take it you've missed me."

"She's your _aunt_?" Sophia interrupted rudely, prodding Jack on the shoulder.

He turned towards her, and she was tremendously amused to see a faint flush coloring his cheeks. "Ah, no. . . not by blood. Nellie's known me since I was a wee cabin boy of eleven."

Sophia raised an eyebrow, her gaze falling upon the older woman with a renewed interest. "Really? How interesting. . ." she drawled slyly, holding a hand out for Nellie to shake and throwing in a curtsey for good measure. "You'll have to tell me a bit about Jack's early years. I'm sure he was a sight to behold." She purposefully ignored Jack's brief but sharp glare in response to her sarcasm. "My name is Sophia Norrington, Jack's. . . ah. . . friend."

Nellie nodded knowingly and shook Sophia's hand with a warm smile. "Oh, Sophia, I can tell you stories that you wouldn't believe! Whenever he came to visit he'd always stir up some new trouble. I'm Nellie Porter, owner of this house of refuge from the bloody mess out there." She motioned over her shoulder towards the door, pulling a face.

Sophia decided she quite liked this Nellie Porter.

Jack watched detachedly as Sophia and Nellie talked. The ease of the two women's conversation was slightly unnerving. Here was Nellie, who he had known most of his life and had lent him more guidance and advice on how to live life than he could ever give. . . and Sophia. He didn't really know what to think of Sophia at the moment. For now, he remained silent and slightly bored, determinedly ignoring their discussion in the way that only men can and fiddling with a spare coin in his pocket. Nellie broke him from his reverie.

"Jack, don't lose this young lady, for God's sake! She's smart as a whip and just as cunning. One to keep, for sure. Now, Sophia, didn't you say you wanted a bath?"

Sophia nodded. "Yes. I've been on a ship for nearly six months and, well. . ."

Nellie exploded into a flurry of movement, grabbing hold of Sophia's hand and towing her along as she headed towards the stairs. "Oh, you poor dear! A ship is a dreadful place for a woman." Raising her voice, she shouted into a back room. "Pierre! Get the good soaps, the ones from England. _Le bon savon!_ No, dear, not those. Ah, _merci_." She handed a bar of thick, ivory soap smelling deliciously of lavender to Sophia. "All he does is blabber in French all day. Imbecile!" She complained, mumbling quietly. "Now, would you like a bath attendant?"

"That would be divine, Nellie, thank you," Sophia sighed, smiling. She wanted nothing more than to lie in hot water and have someone scrub her back. "Perhaps you can keep _him_. . ." Sophia motioned to Jack with her eyes, "out of the bathroom. I want to relax, not be pestered by lusting men."

"We'll lock, bolt, and bar the door if we have to, Sophia. You look as if you could use a rest," Nellie said, her eyes shining and great shoulders bouncing as she laughed.

"You have no idea."

Jack narrowed his eyes into slits at that (he had been fully expecting to be able to barge in on Sophia as she was wet and rosy from hot water and be rewarded with yet another session of furious "punishment"), although, inwardly, he was more than slightly amused at the antics of both the women. "I get you two together an' you turn against me! Insolent women," he growled playfully, but frowned when they ignored him completely.

"Jack, go and ask Cookie to make you a proper meal. You're far too thin," Nellie ordered, and Sophia was very surprised to see him obey her command and sulk off to what she assumed was the kitchen.

Sophia turned to Nellie, her eyes wide with surprise. She'd never seen Jack yield to a demand with so little fuss before. "How. . .?"

"Practice."

-

Sophia sank down dangerously deep into the hot water with delight, her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "You must be kidding, Nellie!"

"Good heavens, child! Don't drown." Nellie grabbed Sophia's slippery elbow to pull her head from the water's surface, before continuing. "I'm not, I swear it. Jack had to run down the alley, naked as the day he was born, with the baker girl's father chasing him and waving a rolling pin! Now sit up so I can scrub your back."

Sophia obliged willingly whilst dissolving into yet another fit of laughter. She stretched her legs out in the massive tub, watching their ghostly paleness beneath the water. It felt wonderful to be able to chat lightly with another woman and to be absolutely sure that no rough sailor would barge into the room while she was in the bath. She hadn't realized until now how taxing it was to live among a ship chock full of men. "Oh, Nellie, thank you so much for doing this. I needed some relaxation," she sighed contentedly, smiling at the older woman over her shoulder as Nellie pressed gentle circles into her back with a soft cloth.

"Think nothing of it, dear. I don't know how you survived on that ship with all its men!"

Sophia smiled. "I managed."

-

Jack took one whiff of Sophia's hair when she emerged from the bathroom and said, "You smell like a bloody English garden."

For some reason Jack preferred Sophia's natural scent, with its heady female musk that aroused both his body and senses, to this new flowery perfume. He rubbed his nose.

Sophia smirked slyly. "That, my dear Captain, is not a bad thing at all. Shall we go?" She asked, glancing towards the door. She did not want to leave at all and would have rather spent several more hours talking with Nellie, but she could see Jack's impatient fidgeting.

Nellie let out a cry of protest in response to the hastiness of their planned departure and insisted on feeding them both a generous meal. Jack had already eaten while Sophia was in the bath, but nevertheless consumed his second course with a vigor that amazed her. Her insides nearly melted as she tasted the tenderness of the roast meat and sampled the sharp spices that had been sprinkled liberally over the potatoes; she had been subsisting on dry (and often moldy) bread and bland stews for six months, and the deliciousness of the meal was a pleasant assault to her unaccustomed taste buds.

Before she and Jack left, Nellie pulled Sophia into the back room. The woman's clear eyes met hers, and, for the first time since Sophia had met her, they looked urgent. From a dusty shelf in the back of the room, she retrieved a tawny leather sack tied off with string, dropping it quickly into Sophia's outstretched palm. "These are the seeds of wild carrot," she stated matter-of-factly. Sophia opened the sack to find an abundance of small seeds and a faint oily smell drifted towards her. Before she could ask what in God's name she was to do with seeds, Nellie continued. "You must chew a spoonful of these seeds a day with water. They will keep you from becoming with child."

Sophia felt as if a knife had been jabbed into her ribs and her assailant was now twisting the hilt to cause her additional pain. "I. . . I can't. . ." she stammered, nearly dropping the sack and sending the valuable seeds across the floor.

"You can't have children? You can never be too careful, Sophia. You may find yourself surprised some day," Nellie's eyes were sympathetic but she spoke with such conviction that Sophia begun to believe her. "But for now," she resumed, "I don't think your lifestyle permits the arrival of a baby."

Sophia nodded mutely—she was incapable of speech—and gave Nellie a quick hug before turning to walk out of the door, the soft leather of the sack clutched tightly in her hand.

-

Sophia and Jack traveled immediately to where his assembled crew waited. This would be the last formal address he would give them before allowing them free reign for the remainder of their stay at Port Ayuda, and his place of choice was a seedy sort of tavern with an abundance of rum and absence of eavesdroppers. They would need privacy.

Jack could not completely disregard Sophia's warning about the restlessness of his crew and their disorganized plans to overthrow him if he didn't find the Fortunes. Even he had noticed as the eyes of his men began to stray, their attitude becoming distant and sulky. They huddled in groups and talked in whispers. Despite this, the recent time on land had seemed to do them good; they were smiling and talking openly to one another, but Jack knew that another mere week at sea would remind them of their insecurities.

Sophia sat in the back of the room, quietly assessing the situation. She knew Jack had something up his sleeve and was willing to bet it had something to do with the recent attitude changes of his crew. Once they were all seated and conversing amiably, Jack stood. He did not waste time with petty talk and introduction. "Now, then. I know some of you are havin' doubts about me plan t' find the Fortunes of Ektibar."

The room went very silent.

Jack paused carefully for effect. "Firs' of all, I will tell you that they _do _exist, an' they are treasures beyond yer wildest dreams. You're probably all thinkin' tha' I don't have any proof of this an' that we're to end up just as the rest of them did if we search for such treasures, but, I assure you, we have somethin', a clue, that they never did. We're not sailing blind. Once we leave this port, there's jus' a three days sail t' our final destination."

A surprised murmur swept over the room, and Sophia watched as Jack's eyes, black in the dim lamplight, flick discreetly to hers before he took another breath to continue in a voice so uncharacteristically earnest that one could not help but believe him. "You all know tha' I would never lie t' you about a matter so serious as this one. You are me crew, an' I would rather give up huntin' treasure forever than put yer lives in jeopardy. Now, does anyone have anythin' they'd like t' say?"

No one said a thing, but Sophia could see their smiles.

-

Every last pirate had left before Jack permitted himself and Sophia to finally depart from the darkened tavern. The period they had spent in town was the longest amount of time they had gone without lying together for nearly a week, and Sophia could see the dark lust shining in Jack's eyes as they stepped into the street. Wickedly, she pressed her hip to his thigh and her breasts against his side as he wrapped one secure arm about her waist and leaned over to lay a steamy kiss on her neck, his breath heavy over her skin. "You're a right evil temptress, you know tha'?" Jack muttered thickly.

Sophia just smirked, her lips curving in the picture of slyness, but she froze as she saw a pair of eyes locked upon her amidst the crowd. Familiar eyes, framed by a face covered in premature wrinkles and bronze skin. The bronze skin of her father's family.

Sophia could see Jack watching her, reproachfully but with desire still dominating his gaze, out of the corner of her eye. "Oh God," She groaned, pushing Jack a respectable distance from her.

The man was fighting his way through the crowd. "Sophia?" He asked with a voice full of confusion. "What—"

Sophia interrupted him quietly. "Hello Uncle."

-

_I had forgotten to draw my curtain, which I usually did, and also to let down my window-blind. The consequence was, that when the moon, which was full and bright (for the night was fine), came in her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement, and looked in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me._

_-- Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bront_

-

A/N: Viola! I you've all been waiting for this. We've been pretty serious in these past couple of chapters, so I've included some lighter stuff here: comedy, reassuring and invigorating both the crew and Sophia, and Nellie! Let me know how this kind of material compares and rates up to the dramatic aspects of the story.

I absolutely love Nellie. She was kind of a spur of the moment character, but I promise she will be returning, if not later in this story in the sequel (Sequel? What sequel? I never said anything about a sequel! shifty eyes).

Information about wild carrot (Queen Anne's Lace) seeds was found on various internet sites. The seeds are actually still used in India and various other places and have been proven to have some contraceptive effects. HOWEVER, don't think that just because I've mentioned them in this story means that I'm encouraging anyone to try them. Not only are they less reliable than modern day birth control, they can also have some unpleasant (but not life threatening) side effects which I have conveniently decided to bypass in the story for the sake of plot.

Thank you all for being so patient while I was gone. Hawaii was wonderful and soo relaxing. I read seven large books in two weeks and came back inspired, ready to write with fresh ideas. I hope that that shows in the style and quality of this chapter.

Next addition: family troubles, the ALWAYS NECESSARY AND SOMEWHAT TIRING PLOT TWIST INCLUDING MORE SECRETS, CHARACTERS, AND STRANGE IDEAS COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR, and Jack gets distracted by several young ladies. Hmm. . .


	22. The Unruly Cousins

Chapter: The Unruly Cousins

-

_He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he—as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful—he might have to go without._

_-- The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien_

-

Adriano Cuthburt was the sort of man who, even in his early fifties, retained the angular good looks and physical form of his Spanish ancestry, the very same Spanish ancestry that had given his brother, Sophia's father, his swarthy complexion and Sophia her black hair. He was perhaps an inch taller than Jack, with dark hair that curled away from his forehead boyishly but was beginning to sport dashing silver streaks at his temples. He greeted Sophia with a smile that was both confused and courteous, and swept her hand up for a friendly kiss.

"My dear Lady Norrington, my niece! Why, I have not seen you since your wedding! How. . . Good heavens! What are you wearing?"

This was all said very quickly and with a faint Spanish lilt. Jack studied the man with veiled, suspicious eyes, but Sophia reverted quickly to the arrogant manner of her prosperous family, that artificial happiness and ignorance that drove her steadily insane with time. Her expression wiped clean of all previous distress, leaving her face smiling graciously, pale and serene. She ignored her uncle's question.

"How lovely to see you, Uncle Adriano. How are Aunt Vera and the cousins? Faring well, I hope?" She asked, calmly skirting around the situation. Jack smiled faintly at Sophia's cunning and said nothing, allowing her to deal with the circumstances as she saw fit, for she knew the ways of her family much more than he did. He did, however, watch her carefully and saw her expression change, her emotions veil themselves in an obviously practiced way. He saw her build up her wall.

"Oh, very well indeed. Vera is much better, for the sweating sickness has passed. The children are wonderful; Elizabeth is growing up to quite a beauty, and Bertie is as he always is," Adriano said. Both Sophia and Jack noticed a flash of pain in the Spaniard's eyes as he mentioned his son's name that quickly disappeared as he took notice of Jack and stood silently, politely waiting to be introduced.

"I'm glad, Uncle," Sophia assured him, before poking Jack discreetly in the side so that the pirate, unaccustomed to the rules of civil conversation, would step forward. "This is my good friend, Captain Jack Haverling. He is a sailor and accompanying me on my journey."

Sophia lied as smoothly as if she were taking her wedding vows.

Jack greeted the older man in a conservative manner, for he still did not completely trust this member of Sophia's family, and Adriano smiled distractedly as they shook hands, taking note of Jack's strange appearance for a respectable sailor.

"Oh? What sort of journey are you on, niece?" He asked.

Sophia was very glad that Adriano was not the sort of man to be suspicious. "I am meeting my husband in Virginia to look at a plantation that he may want to purchase. He thinks tobacco may be profitable in the near future," she lied. Jack grinned.

"Ah, very good. Would you like to join us for supper, Sophia? Captain Haverling can join us as well, if he'd like," Adriano asked graciously.

"We'd like that very much, Uncle," Sophia said. Jack looked at her sharply. Lies.

-

The Cuthburt hall faced due east so that one could look out the master bedroom window and see the sea, and the rising sun, fresh and red in the early morning, shone onto the creamy stone exterior, casting shadows around the pillars and stairway. In the evening, the gardens and plants at the entrance were cloaked in shade, a pleasant relief from the midday heat. The grounds were expansive, and most of the land was used for the harvesting of sugarcane, but there were some sweet, hidden places that had delighted Sophia when she'd come to visit as a child: patches of cool tropical forest, rolling, impossibly green plains, or entirely still ponds with an abundance of skating water bugs.

All was normal at that beautiful mansion, the hall in which Adriano Cuthburt, his wife, and his two children lived, save for the small window on the third floor, furthest to the right.

On that window, there were bars, cold and hard as the iron of a blade.

-

"Why, woman? Why, in God's name, did you agree t' this?" Jack hissed quietly in her ear as they sat in the back of the carriage. Adriano was driving the handsome pair of hunters, and the horses' hooves sent stones skidding into the ditches on the sides of the road.

"Wouldn't my uncle think it a bit _odd_, Jack, if his most beloved niece refused to have at least a quiet supper with him and his family? Don't you think it might cause him some alarm?" Sophia asked pointedly. "Besides, it's not as if we'll be staying for long."

The house came abruptly into view, its imposing silhouette massive against the evening sky. "Bloody hell. . . 'S tha' it?" Jack questioned quickly and incredulously to Sophia. She nodded. "Certainly big enough, aye?"

Before Sophia could answer, Adriano pulled the horses to a swift halt. "Welcome to Cuthburt Hall," he declared graciously, stepping out to open the door for Sophia. Jack, unaccustomed to the customs of polite society, swung the door open himself and clambered out of the carriage, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel that littered the drive.

Adriano led the way, up the stairway and through the grandiose entrance hall, bedecked by multitudes of nameless servants. They were all smiling and bowing or curtseying, and Sophia found that she was rather disgusted by their undying attachment and friendliness towards those of the higher class, and wondered if she had ever noticed it before. No, she realized, she hadn't. She'd been too preoccupied with her petty and insignificant troubles to notice the domestics that fawned about her.

Jack, however, was finding this all very amusing. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him "sir" or "master," and, consequently, had to force down uproarious laughter each time one of these serfs did so.

Adriano smiled, blissfully ignorant and used to such a procession, and allowed his coat and hat to be taken by one of his anonymous personnel. "Ah, thank you. Anyway, I would like to introduce you all to my niece, Sophia Norrington, and Captain Haverling, her escort."

"Good evening, miss. Good evening, sir," they chorused. Sophia frowned.

One of the maids stepped forward, quietly addressing Jack. "May I take your hat, sir?"

Jack whirled around on his heel to stare pointedly at the pretty young woman who had requested such blasphemy, his brow furrowed. He leaned in close to her. "What did you say?"

"May I take your hat?"

Jack stared at her with an abundant amount of disgust. "Definitely not, love." With that, he turned and walked towards Sophia, tapping her on the arm, looking very scandalized. "She tried t' take me hat."

"It's what they do, Jack," she hissed, trying to ignore the strange looks her unconventional outfit was receiving from the servants.

At that moment, a small wisp of a woman entered, the olive folds of her satin gown rustling as if to announce her presence. Adriano smiled. "Vera! I was wondering when you'd appear. Look what I've found!"

Sophia looked up, shocked by the change in her aunt's appearance since she'd last seen her. Vera was pale, her cheeks pinched, and a fine spider's web of tiny wrinkles had materialized on her forehead, around her mouth, and at the corners of her eyes. The beautiful, glowing person Sophia had seen only three years ago had transformed into the picture of a woman who'd seen too much and lived too long with pain, who'd lived months and years with anxiety bearing down on her chest like lead. Nevertheless, Sophia smiled. She'd always liked her aunt.

Vera smiled as well, a curling of the lips that didn't reach the stone in her eyes. "Sophia! How wonderful to see you, my dear! Gracious me. . . what are you wearing?"

Sophia embraced her aunt in a brief hug. "All my beautiful dresses were lost overboard on the journey, I'm afraid; I was forced to borrow clothes from the men. It's so embarrassing, Aunt Vera!" She droned pathetically, hoping to grasp some of the simpering child she was before her time on The Black Pearl. Vera muttered to her consolingly.

"Don't worry, dear. We'll soon have you fixed up. I believe that you are about the size of Elizabeth, and I'm sure she'd be more than willing to lend you some dresses."

Sophia manufactured an expression that she hoped resembled gratitude. "How relieving! I was quite worried that I would have to tramp about in these rags for the entirety of the journey!" She exclaimed, laughing as if the idea was immensely entertaining. Vera was chortling as well.

Jack watched everything, grinning at Sophia's sudden change and deception. She was not the same person she had been. Finally, he cleared his throat loudly, needing to be introduced.

Sophia shot Jack a dangerous look. This was the one situation in which he would have to let her be in control and keep his mouth shut. "Oh, how terribly rude of me, Captain! Aunt Vera, this is Captain Haverling. He is escorting me to Virginia where I will meet my husband, and the captain of The Interloper." Sophia knew, of course, that Jack had neither heard nor seen such a ship, but she needed some sort of fabrication to make him appear reputable in the minds of her aunt and uncle.

Both Vera and Adriano glanced at Jack with a new respect in their eyes. "The Interloper? That's the replica of The Interceptor, is it not? The fastest ship in the Caribbean? Oh, we must talk ships, young man! I should like to know more about this water demon you captain," Adriano offered, smiling.

Jack glared darkly at Sophia for shoving him into this situation, and she stared back at him with wide, innocent eyes, full of mirth. Jack curled his fists in his pockets. "O' course, mate. 'S a fine ship indeed."

Adriano seemed satisfied with such an answer for now, and, with a sweep of his arm, beckoned the two into the sitting room. Vera spoke up quickly, however, her eyes on Sophia's clothes and undoubtedly thinking of defending her fine horsehair chairs from such an onslaught of grime. Jack's clothes were in similar states of distress, but she would never dare to say so to a man, even such an odd man as Jack. "Oh, Sophia. I'll call Elizabeth to see if she can lend you a dress. Where is that girl? Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth was naught but twelve when Sophia had seen her last, and the moment the young girl swept down the staircase she could see that she had grown up. A lot. The pretty child Sophia had known was fifteen now, a woman by society's standards and eligible to marry. Sophia did not doubt that Elizabeth had suitors. She was probably the most beautiful person Sophia had ever seen, with light brown hair that curled in alluring ringlets to her waist, a perfect rosebud mouth, and green eyes that looked, to Sophia, like a devious cat's. She had inherited the bronzed skin of her father's side and it flowed and stretched like milk over her slight frame. As Vera had said, she was about the same size as Sophia, although nearly an inch taller and with the same curves in the same places. Sophia felt positively hideous next to such a goddess, and felt herself bristle with an envy that shamed her. Elizabeth was her cousin and a lovely girl.

And yet, as Sophia looked into Elizabeth's eyes she shivered. They were cold, and there was knowledge there, a terrible knowledge, and power. Her cousin knew how to manipulate people with her beauty, knew how to use her looks to her advantage. Sophia fixed a smile onto her face. "Hello, cousin. It's delightful to see you looking so well!" She exclaimed, embracing Elizabeth quickly. She was stiff in her arms.

Jack stared at this cousin, struck dumb by the girl's utter exquisiteness. Even when Sophia introduced him under his false name, he couldn't speak; he literally had no words. He watched as Elizabeth turned her sharp eyes to him, an entirely lovely smile at her lips. Her gaze warmed as she took in his face, his physique, his uniqueness compared to the boring noblemen she was accustomed to. He watched as she narrowed her attentions and set her sights on him completely, and knew. He knew that as soon as she asked him, he would be hers.

Sophia watched as well, her eyes cold and dark as they noticed Elizabeth's tempting fascination with Jack, and her lover's rare and consuming devastation as soon as this cunning seductress looked at him.

Sophia could not explain it, but she saw straight through Elizabeth's beauty; the girl was looking for power and was willing to use her sexuality as a weapon to get it. Jack was a mystery to her and undoubtedly an important figure (how was she to guess he was a pirate?) if her parents were so welcoming to him. By gaining him, she could gain control over him and whomever he commanded as well. Clearing her throat, Sophia interrupted the heated gaze between the two, and said, "Elizabeth, as you can see, I'm in dire need of a gown. My own clothing was lost overboard. I don't suppose you could lend me one?"

Elizabeth's eyes darted away from Jack, leaving him to stare at her with a mounting desire. "Of course, Sophia, dear. I've many dresses and I'm sure I could spare several. Follow me; my room is upstairs," she purred, shooting Jack another hot glance as she freely offered the knowledge that no guest, least of all male, should know: the way to her room and thus to her bed. Jack swallowed hard.

Sophia's face hardened and her eyes followed Elizabeth as she turned to climb the stairs disgustedly. Before she followed, she walked over to Jack and pinched him roughly on the arm. He barely noticed her. "_Jack!_"

"Mmm?"

Sophia nearly growled at him. "She's fifteen, Jack."

"Is she?" Jack asked, finally turning towards her.

"You mustn't take any notice of her. Can't you see? Can't you sense it? She's a wicked girl. She wants power, _only_ power. She would seduce you to control you. Ignore her," Sophia hissed. Jack was listening carefully now.

"I've never seen anythin' like 'er," he confessed.

"I know. You mustn't let her control you."

Jack found that he believed her, and believed that her urgent warnings were more than those of a jilted lover. Sophia was far to intelligent to think that, after sleeping with her for a week, Jack would be faithful to her and only her, but she didn't want him to fall victim to this temptress for his own sake.

And something in Elizabeth's searing emerald gaze had suggested that she was appraising him for more than his looks.

Jack glanced at her, telling her with his eyes that he understood, and then turned and walked into the sitting room to join Adriano and Vera.

-

Elizabeth, if nothing else, was generous with her gifts. She gave Sophia three elaborate dresses: one of a deep forest green with a wide skirt and square neck; another, the color of dark, dark wine, off the shoulder and flaring at the waist; and the third of gray, smartly adorned with black lace trim and a somewhat less wide skirt. Sophia was grateful, despite her grudge towards her cousin and the knowledge that as soon as she returned to the ship she would once again dress in the clothes in which she came. For now, she would don the wine gown. She found that it accented the pallor of her skin and her faint flush from the heat.

"Oh please, Elizabeth! Spare me the corset!" Sophia pleaded jokingly. She knew the dress's waist was far too small for her to go without the contraption.

Elizabeth smiled unsympathetically. "I'm sorry, cousin. It has to be done."

Sophia sighed as the servants flocked about her and an uncomfortable silence fell across the room. She searched for a subject to engage a conversation about, and, after discovering one, searched the room with her eyes for an untrustworthy face. Finding not one, she spoke. "Have you had any trouble with salt water lately, Elizabeth?"

Sophia and Elizabeth were both women from the Cuthburt line, and thus both carried the message of Bernardo Ektibar. Elizabeth shook her head as if the question was an ordinary one. Adriano had trained her well. "None whatsoever. You?" She asked in return.

"Not at all," Sophia lied.

They did not speak of such matters again.

So Sophia resigned to the numerous maids' attentions, even allowing her hair to be coiled and twisted into a mass of dark curls at her crown. By the end of it she was sweating, suffocating, complaining, and nearly bursting out of the dress, for indeed her breasts were swelling over her neckline enticingly, albeit uncomfortably. But even she had to admit that she looked glorious, even next to the outshining beauty of Elizabeth.

"Oh, Sophia. You look absolutely stunning," Elizabeth breathed.

Sophia looked at the two women in the mirror: herself, dressed in the finest of clothes, hair perfect, face the picture of loveliness; and Elizabeth in her everyday gown of pale gold, emerald eyes smoky with unanswered desire and knowledge. She knew that if a man was given the choice between them both and her cousin was to fix him with her green-eyed gaze of seduction, he would choose Elizabeth.

-

Jack stopped chewing on his crumpet when Sophia walked into the room. His eyes were very wide. Sophia smiled knowingly and cast him a look laden with sensual intensity. Jack paid less attention to Elizabeth after that.

Adriano rose quickly to offer Sophia his seat. "Sophia, you look stunning!"

Sophia smiled courteously and sat delicately on the edge of the cushion as a lady should, straight-backed and shoulders square. She could feel Jack's eyes boring into her from across the table. "Thank you, Uncle. That is very kind," she replied.

Adriano smiled in return and then turned to address Jack. "Now, Captain, I believe you were just going to tell us of The Interloper, were you not?"

Elizabeth chimed in, her eyes cold as they flickered past Sophia, who felt a perverse sort of feminine pride at stealing Jack's attentions away from her cousin, for the pirate now stared at Sophia with a sexual energy that surprised her in its intensity. "Yes, Captain, please do tell us of your ship. Ships have always fascinated me. How do they work?" Elizabeth breathed, fixing him with that captivating stare.

Sophia could have laughed at the abrupt change in Jack; he looked at her with something akin to revulsion. "How do they _work_?" He repeated, incredulous. "Have you not been on a ship before, lass?"

"Oh, several. But I never dared to guess what made them move. . . besides the wind, of course."

Jack resolved to simply ignore her, despite her outstanding beauty. Her stunning looks were eclipsed by her disgusting ignorance of the ways of the sea and ships, in his book. Instead, he turned to Adriano, happily formulating a picture with words of a ship he'd never seen. Sophia smiled and shot him another seductive glance that rivaled those of Elizabeth, if she did say so herself.

Jack swallowed and, after several tries, continued to speak. "She's sizeable, much larger than The Interceptor. Now, I meself 'ave captained both ships, an' The Interloper's far superior. . ."

Jack maintained the conversation, lying compulsively, and managed to keep Adriano completely absorbed. Sophia, meanwhile, struck up a discussion with her aunt.

"Aunt Vera, where is Bertie? I've not seen him yet this evening," she asked, quietly as to not disrupt Jack and Adriano's exchange.

Sophia watched as her aunt's face crumpled and discovered the reason for Vera's strained appearance and new wrinkles. "Oh, Sophia. It really is a dreadful circumstance, my son." Carefully, she lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "You remember, of course, that Bertie has always been very fascinated with the Fortunes?" Vera asked, casting her gaze towards Jack, unknowing, of course, of his complete knowledge of Ektibar's hidden treasure. Sophia did remember. She remembered her young, handsome cousin sitting by himself and muttering, shooting glances at both Sophia and his sister, whom he knew possessed the message. She remembered his obsession. Vera continued, "Just last year, he tried to find it."

"_What?_" Sophia hissed loudly.

"Hush, child," Vera reprimanded. "We brought him back, thankfully. He was gone only a month on a small dinghy. But, I'm afraid, the heat and starvation affected him quite badly. He's taken a turn for the worse."

"Taken a turn for the worse?" Sophia inquired. She didn't understand.

Sophia was alarmed to see tears in Vera's eyes. When she spoke, her voice was a strained and painful whisper. "He's gone completely mad, Sophia. He rants constantly and attempts to escape at every chance he can, trying to find the Fortunes. We've had to keep him here by force. Did you see the bars as you came in?"

Sophia shook her head.

"They're on his old room, you remember? At the very top right."

-

Sophia forced the image of her poor cousin locked in his childhood room out of her mind as she sat down to dinner. The food was quite good, but Sophia was seated next to Jack and he seemed very bent on distracting her from her meal with a hand on her thigh or other less reputable places. Finally, fed up with his petting and flushed with her own desire, she stuck her hand and forearm under the table. Jack bent down as if he had dropped his fork and grasped her wrist, kissing the translucent skin there and then her palm, before moving his lips up the inside of her arm, almost to her elbow.

It seemed to Jack, as he returned to a seated position after spending far too long under the table, that every time Sophia put on a dress she drove him nearly insane with lust. Anyone who cared to look could see his longing for the woman next to him, and look Elizabeth did, her frown marring the exotic beauty of her face.

Adriano and Vera, of course, were oblivious. They ate their dinner in peace.

Sophia could not take it anymore. The combination of the dress and her lust was causing her to overheat, and perspiration was running down her spine and in the crevasse between her up thrust breasts. "Excuse me. I'm feeling a bit faint. I think I'll step out for some fresh air," she admitted, and stood from the table, striding from the table, the dark red train of her skirt trailing behind her.

Jack smirked at that. Faint? He'd show her faint. He waited for several moments before excusing himself as well on the pretense of going to see if Sophia was all right.

She was waiting for him in the hall. Jack wasted no time and crowded her to the wall with his body until her back was crushed against the hard surface, his mouth hot against hers, his fingers rough as they moved across her neck, shoulders, and breasts. He now cursed the dress because it was indefinitely hard to get off. Sophia pressed her hips against his arousal, gasping, her bosom heaving against their restraints and, thus, driving Jack to further levels of lust.

After several minutes, Sophia reluctantly slid out of Jack's embrace. He'd managed to undo the front of her dress and bear nearly all of her breasts, and Sophia fastened it with haste. Understatedly, she came to Jack again, pressing the length of her trembling body to his and pressing a chaste kiss to his disappointed lips. "I'm sorry, Jack. There is only so much I can do with my family in the next room." With that said, she turned and went once more into the dining hall.

Jack cursed her. All the bloody woman had succeeded in doing was increase his desire to dizzying heights. He waited in the hall for several minutes, breathing slowly and trying to regain control of his southern region, before following Sophia into the room.

-

Sophia wanted to see how The Fortunes of Ektibar affected those who sought it and went mad while doing so. She wanted to remind herself that what she and Jack were attempting was always uncertain, always dangerous. She wanted to keep herself from relaxing.

Call it curiosity.

She excused herself from where her family and Jack were having a light desert of coffee and sweet biscuits to "use the facilities."

Sophia went alone into that dark room with the shadows of bars across the hardwood floor. Her eyes were strained in the black.

"Bertie?"

Something rustled in the corner, and a lamp suddenly flickered to life. Sophia gasped.

Hundreds of maps littered the floors, and yet more had been pasted crudely to the walls. All were marked excessively with red ink and sporadic X's.

He was still looking.

Her cousin sat at a small desk. He was pale in the sickliest of ways, the way of overwork and overstress, and the good looks he had possessed in his youth were wasted with psychosis. He looked up, saw her, and began to laugh.

"Bertie?" Sophia said his name again, the calmness of her face hiding her alarm.

He was very serious now. "They won't let me do it, Sophia."

"They won't let you do what, cousin?" Sophia asked, gently.

"Use Elizabeth. Use _you_. They won't let me. Why not?"

She understood now. "Because it can't be found, Bertie. You've already tried once. Shouldn't once be enough?"

Bertie exploded into motion. With one swift arc of his arm, he upturned the table and his maps, sending the fragile pieces of parchment floating to the ground. Sophia started back several steps as he strode towards her. She could see his fingers curling. "SHUT UP! None of you understand, do you? If I wait much longer it will be too late! They will have found it! _I _am supposed to find it!"

Sophia was paralyzed with fear. She was foolish to come in here, in his claustrophobic room that reeked of madness. And now she would die at the hands of this maniac, her cousin.

Her prophecy did not play out, however. Bertie turned from her abruptly went back to his original spot in the corner. He righted the desk and sat down in his chair, staring ahead with a blankness that frightened Sophia far more than his outburst.

"They keep putting smells on me."

"I'm sorry?" Sophia thought that she had not heard him correctly.

"They keep putting smells on me," he repeated, his eyes now full of dark suspicion as they stared dully into hers.

"Oh. . ." Sophia's gaze darted towards the door. She inched towards sanctuary from this lunacy. She heard one last exclamation from her ruined cousin before she closed the door behind her.

"Tell them to stop."

-

Jack's eyes narrowed as Sophia came down the staircase pale and clammy. "Wha's wrong, love?"

Sophia waved her hand submissively, shaking her head. "Nothing of your concern, Captain," she said, smiling at her family. They beamed back. "Thank you all so much for the wonderful meal and your hospitality. You truly are wonderful hosts."

She elbowed Jack discreetly. "Bloody—Ah, yes. Thank you," he offered, wincing. Sophia glared at his near slip up of profanity.

"You're welcome, Sophia. Have a wonderful journey," Vera supplied, graciously ignoring Jack's uncouth word.

Sophia exchanged embraces and followed Jack out the door and down the drive. Once they were a safe distance from the house, he wound an arm around her waist and smiled deviously. "Now, love, where were we last?"

Sophia smiled and tried to drive the nightmare of a dark room laden with insanity out of her mind. "I believe it was somewhere around. . ." Delicately, she rose on her toes to press a sultry kiss to the underside of his jaw. ". . .there."

She watched Jack's Adam's apple move as he swallowed, before he ducked his head and began to pass his lips across the exposed whiteness of her breasts. "I think—"

"Sophia! Wait!"

Sophia quickly drew away from Jack, who groaned in the most exasperated of ways, and turned to find Elizabeth trailing behind them, skirts in hand and running towards her. She heard Jack sigh, and whether it was from further frustration with the girl or her beauty she did not know.

"Elizabeth? What is it?" Sophia asked, stepping towards her cousin.

"Oh, merely a question between cousins. Continue on, Captain Haverling," said Elizabeth, smiling at him dazzlingly as he turned to leave, grumbling and shooting Sophia a sulky look over his shoulders.

Once Jack was out of hearing distance, Elizabeth turned on Sophia, her eyes flashing, as cold and icy green as a forest in winter. "Do not think I don't know what you are doing, witch," she spat, fuming, her exquisiteness transformed into an ugly thing as anger replaced her usual simper.

Sophia smiled coolly, finally understanding. Her cousin was utterly, completely spoiled, ignorant, and easily prone to jealousy. Jealousy over men, specifically "Whatever do you mean, cousin?"

Elizabeth quirked her mouth frostily, and her voice was unpleasant as she spoke. "Don't pretend, darling. You are no better than a slut and a whore, using your body to seduce that poor man. And you, a married woman! You just can't get enough domination, can you? First you marry that idiot, Norrington, because he is Commodore and captains an entire fleet, and now Captain Haverling, the newest and most promising addition to your husband's legion. You sicken me."

Sophia felt a pang of sympathy for this girl, this child, who knew nothing about anything that mattered. She was silent for several moments before finally sighing. "Be thankful you have more time to learn and grow, dear Elizabeth."

With that, she turned and walked away to her lover, smiling and looking forward to a night of the kind of satisfaction and pleasure that her little cousin could never guess existed.

-

_This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,_

_That presses them and learns them first to bear,_

_Making them women of good carriage._

_-- Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare_

-

**A/N:** Ahh. . . I love this chapter, although I'm not completely satisfied with it. I get the feeling it's a little unclear. Nevertheless, it was so much fun to write and the words seemed to fly out of my fingertips and into the keys, especially Elizabeth's first entrance and the description of Cuthburt Hall. All of these new characters and situations are wonderful to write. And it's looooong. Over 5,000 words, to be exact. Nine pages. Booyah!

Please, tell me what you think about these characters I've been adding in the last two chapters. I need to know if I haven't lost my touch with character development. And Elizabeth! I really enjoy Elizabeth. She's the embodiment of feminine sexuality, slyness and ignorance in the same personality. AND she's prettier than Sophia, which was entertaining. Sophia is rarely jealous, and when she is it's fuuun to write.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you to all my reviewers. Without you, I would DIE (not really)! You guys are seriously my motivation for writing; if you didn't evaluate, I wouldn't write, so hurry up and click that review button!

**ATTENTION!** To repay you all for being so lenient with my frequent and horrendous lateness, I have written a little cookie-ish type thing of dialogue between Jack and Sophia. It has absolutely nothing to do with the plot of this fic but is humorous and rather enjoyable, if I do say so myself. It is entitled The Fortunes of Ektibar: France and the Drunkard, and is for all of YOU, so have fun! If you all like it (the only way I'll know that if you review, people!) I'll consider writing more. Enjoy!

Next chapter: All hell breaks loose. Seriously.


	23. Thieves

Chapter: Thieves

-

_All brown all around, we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and out knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled up tight and our eyes look straight. Yeah. That is how it goes and goes._

_-- The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros_

-

It wasn't until next morning that Sophia discovered the multitude of expensive trinkets Jack had hidden in his jacket. She found said garment forgotten, strewn across the floor of his cabin along with the remainder the clothes which had been so haphazardly thrown the night before in their frenzied attempts to get at each other's bare skin in the least possible amount of time. She had yet to find her new dress, and had a sneaking suspicion that it would be hiding in some outrageous place. Crammed between the two pallets that encompassed the bed, for example.

Picking the jacket up and administering it a hearty shake, she gave a little yelp and jumped backwards as to protect her toes from the falling candlesticks, silverware, and jewelry that announced their presence with a series of loud clangs. The disturbance prompted a grunt from Jack, who lay on his stomach on the small cot, unabashedly naked. Jack had been feeling very content—due to the recent strenuous activities, no doubt—until now.

"Jack, where did you get these?" Sophia asked, kneeling down to examine the sparkling ornaments.

Jack groaned and sat up, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyelids sleepily. "Nicked 'em."

Sophia was not surprised, and was about to voice her disapproval when the door flew open and a boisterous Gibbs stalked through the entryway. "Jack—"

Sophia interrupted him with a loud shriek as she dove to grasp the crumpled blanket on the floor and cover her nakedness with the scratchy wool, blushing furiously. Gibbs stared at her with an open mouth, and then averted his eyes carefully, a red tint to his cheeks as well. "Gibbs!" Sophia exclaimed, her voice utterly offended as she clutched the blanket to her breast. Jack, on the other hand, completely ignored the fact that he was nude and looked to his crewmate with polite perplexity.

"'Ello, Gibbs! Lovely morning, innit?" Jack grinned at him. "Wha' is it you wanted?"

Sophia couldn't help but feel a smidgen of sympathy for the old man as he fought between embarrassment and the willingness to answer his captain's question. That sympathy was soon lost as she remembered that she was, in fact, naked, and the man standing before her was not, in fact, Jack.

"Ah, well. . . Y'see. . . crew was wonderin'. . . how long afore we leave th' port?" Gibbs stammered, his eyes flicking quickly towards where Sophia sat, her legs drawn up to her chest and the blanket pulled to her shoulders.

"S' tha' all? Very well, we set sail tomorrow morning," Jack calmly answered, grinning jovially.

Sophia, seeing that the exchange was over, pointed towards the door resolutely. "Get out, Gibbs, and next time remember to knock."

Gibbs cast an apologetic look in her direction. "I'm sorry, Miss Sophia. Didn't mean—"

"_OUT!_"

As the door slammed behind the old seaman, Jack finally let out a few chuckles despite Sophia's pout. She dropped the blanket and stood up, and, after more than several minutes, finally found her clothes. They were in one of Jack's desk drawers.

Jack continued to laugh. "It's not funny, Jack!" Sophia barked.

"Ah, Sophie. But you were not fortunate enough t' see the look on yer face."

Sophia huffed and threw one of her new fancy dresses at him playfully. The expansive skirts draped over his face, and he had to bat the fabric away in a clumsy show of feyness from his head, only to catch one last glimpse of Sophia before she swept out the door.

Fighting a roguish grin, Jack fixed his expression into one of mock gravity. "There'll be no livin' with 'er after this."

-

Sophia opted to remain on the ship when Jack and the rest of the crew decided to spend one last night at the tavern before leaving the following morning. Despite Sophia's protests that she was perfectly capable of preventing the ship from floating away, Jack left Andrew to watch over her. Sophia, feeling very much like a toddler who needed babysitting, retired to Jack's cabin to sift through the books in his possession.

Naught but an hour later, Sophia heard voices. Quietly, she creaked the door open and glanced outside.

Andrew was dead. Torn and bloodied on the deck like pomegranate juice, his hands bound with rough rope. The quiet man who Sophia had often talked with while playing cards and had come to be her friend was gone. Men in dark clothing whispered and wandered about the ship, lifting trapdoors, sneaking down into the brig, edging towards the cabins. They'd come to find a nonexistent treasure. All the swag from Chamberlin Manor had been squandered and sold away for useless purposes, left to float away like paper in the wind. Sophia backed away, hyperventilating severely in her panic. They were coming this way. They were coming to check the captain's quarters.

Suddenly, Sophia's mind cleared, as minds often do in such a situation, and she began to formulate a plan. She would sneak out of the room, climb down the edge of the ship and onto the dock, and find Jack. She knew he was in the same tavern that he and the crew had been in the day before. The Weary Stag.

Sophia opened the door more quietly this time. She kept her body tight against the edge of the wall and in the shadows that hid her so perfectly. The thieves did not notice a thing. She edged around to the railing of the ship and glanced down the ten feet or so she'd have to descend. There was a sliver of dark water between the ship and dock. She tried to ignore the possibility that she would fall and drown in the most painful of ways.

Her mind was remarkably clear as she climbed, using the various irregularities in the wood as ledges for her hand and feet to grasp. Finally, her feet landed on solid ground, and, ignoring the weakness in her knees and the grieving pain in her gut, she set out at a run, hoping the darkness of the night would hide her. She heard no raised voices, no sound of alarm, and her shoulders relaxed minutely as she ran.

The rest was a blur. She could not remember which route she took to get to The Weary Stag, only that she arrived there in an astonishingly short period of time. Her chest hurt with a combination of grief for her friend and fatigue from her blind run. She threw open to door of the tavern, her eyes searching for Jack.

She found him with a woman on his lap. Sophia watched his hands as they wandered over her body, she watched him kiss her, she watched him pick her up and start to take her to the bed that she knew was on the next floor.

-

_There's something about battle that rouses lust in men. Ares and Aphrodite. Stags fighting for the right to cover a herd of does._

_-- Daughter of Troy, Sarah B. Franklin_

-

A/N: Yes, I know that this chapter is very short, but I am leaving for two weeks in an hour and figure you all would rather have a short chapter than no chapter. Am I right?

As I said, I'm going on yet another vacation. Visiting cousins in Oregon, and then shooting down to California to visit more family and take a strenuous five-day hike at 10,000 feet in Yosemite. I'd much rather be here, writing, if you hadn't guessed. I'll be back around the 25th, so expect a chapter some time on the 27th. I think those are the right dates.

Anyway, I'm terribly sorry. I know that two weeks can seem like a long time, but you can look forward to Sophia's reaction to Jack's unfaithful escapade. And how can we forget those naughty crooks?


	24. Severed Ties

Chapter: Severed Ties

_For all the world I would have jumped off my horse and kissed the smile back onto his face. But he bowed, and stepped back to lean against the wall and watched the hunt and me ride out and away from him. He did not even call to me when he would see me again. He let me go._

_-- The Other Boleyn Girl, Philippa Gregory_

Sophia knew she had no right to be jealous. They were not involved in the way of spouses or even dedicated lovers. They both liked to believe that their relationship was strictly physical. She did not own Jack and she had no claim over his actions and decisions.

And yet she was envious. She was envious of the way Jack held onto the woman with easy strength and careless movements as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He was not checked, he did not keep his emotions hidden as he did with her. She knew he regarded the encounter with this woman, this whore, as nothing. As something normal and common. What Jack thought he had with Sophia was not normal to him, this she knew. He had to be careful.

Anger now flowed like magma through her, seductive and easy to trust. Anger was simple. But she would have to save her rage for later; Andrew was dead and the ship would be taken if she did not do something. She could not let her emotions bypass such danger.

Sophia's legs carried her over to him on their own account. "Jack," she said, unable to keep the spite from her voice.

Jack nearly dropped the nameless woman. By the uncharacteristic clumsiness of his movements, Sophia could safely judge that he was nearly past the coherent stage of drunkenness. His eyes wide, he turned around to look at her, his eyes failing to focus on her face. "Sophie? What're you doin' 'ere?" He asked, the alcohol in his system further pronouncing his slur.

"There are men on the ship trying to find the loot from Chamberlin Manor. Andrew is dead," Sophia deadpanned.

"What?"

"You heard me, Jack," she explained stonily.

Sophia was amazed to see a fair bit of sobriety appear on Jack's face. The man had an unusual skill of throwing off the effect of inhuman amounts of liquor in a situation that needed it.

"Right," he stated, more to himself than anyone. Now he _did _drop the whore in his arms, and she let out a squeal and scrambled to her feet, glaring daggers at Jack as he rallied his groaning men.

Sophia ignored the crew as they rushed to get out and back to the falling ship, but did noticed the way they had all tensed like hounds scenting a fox when Jack broke the news, ready to defend their home, the ship, ready to go into battle with lucid minds, despite their drinking. Instead of following, she fixed the woman, a complete stranger, with a frighteningly calm stare, cold and calculating.

This woman had cost her Jack, cost her happiness. She would not welcome the captain into her bed again.

Despite her repulsive profession, she was a pretty girl, and Sophia guessed that she was much younger than her, seventeen at the most. Sophia knew that her beauty would not last long if she continued to live such a hard life. She would die an early death, stinking with some disgusting disease contracted from the sailors and pirates that she would lie with.

Sophia continued to stare, malice shining in her eyes. The girl began to look uncomfortable, fidgeting and dropping her gaze to the floor. Sophia detected a hint of shame in her posture, the set of her shoulders. "'Jus' doin' me job, Miss. Ah didn't know noffing about 'im," she offered with the voice of a child, a country maid who'd had a spot of bad luck. Sophia's face softened as she realized her fury should be directed at someone far more responsible that this child.

"I know. I shouldn't be angry with you."

The young woman grinned bitterly, her eyes tired and hard with experiences that someone her age should never have had to cope with, displaying blackened teeth. "Give 'im a good whippin' fer me, will ya?"

By the time Sophia arrived back at the Black Pearl, the fray had, for the most part, concluded. She had purposefully procrastinated her return to the ship; she'd seen enough blood for the night, and knew that Jack's crew would be no more merciful than the thieves when it came to the protection of their ship and captain. She only saw the bloodied bodies and captives, tied to the mast as was Jack's tradition, before she averted her eyes and walked to the captain's cabin to collect what possessions she had left there and return them to her own lodgings.

She left everything he owned in order, immaculate, and only took what she knew she owned without question. Every shirt, book, even quills he had lent her rested in their place. She took only the clothes that Anamaria had given her and was searching for the last blouse when Jack came in, rowdy and loud from the excitement of the fight. Casting her a distracted glance, he swaggered, his confidence boosted with victory, over to his chest and began stripping his shirt, wet with another man's blood. "Everythin's fine, Sophie. Not a man injured, savvy? Imagine it gave you quite a fright though, wha' with Andrew. . . What're you doin'?"

Sophia had to fight to keep her face passive as she gathered her garments into a tighter bundle against her chest. "I should think it would be obvious."

Realization dawned on Jack's face, and he narrowed his eyes disapprovingly, swaying on his feet with the aftermath of his drinking. "Bloody hell. 'Cause o' tha' girl? Honestly, Sophia, don't—"

"Don't _what_, Jack?" The anger that Sophia had kept so deceptively hidden exploded, rendering her blind to all else. He acted so bloody _casual._

Jack grew increasingly uncomfortable. This was not a situation he usually had to encounter. "You can't take tha' seriously."

"How should I take it then? Should I just learn to accept your _foul_ whoring habits and know that every time you take me to your bed another woman is there with us? That her stink is on you and any filthy, disgusting sickness she might carry might be passed to me? I will not sacrifice my health, both mental and physical, just for pleasure! _You,_ of all people, should know I am stronger than that, after all that you know me to have survived! I am not the helpless child I was five years ago! _I will not stand for this!_" Sophia snarled, registering the surprise and utter bewilderedness on Jack's face with immense satisfaction. Still, despite her victory, she pressed on: "And you, sir, can rot in hell for all I care."

Jack stared at her. Very rarely was Sophia so malicious, and such an outburst surprised him, to say the least. Despite this, he could feel a spark of anger rising to counter hers.

How could she expect him to change his life for her when she knew that what he held closest to his heart was his freedom?

Before he could snap an unkind reply, Sophia stalked out of the door, chin held high, leaving Jack to contemplate and seethe over the emptiness of the room behind her.

It did feel empty.

It took Jack several days of enduring a twisting in his gut before he realized that he missed her. He missed her body, with its pale hollows and plains, soft to the touch. He missed the twinkle of mirth in her colorless eyes when she teased him and the patient way that she explained something that he did not understand.

Missing her made him angrier still. He was not supposed to miss anything.

They were simply not talking, and Sophia was perfectly happy to maintain her part of the silence. Her anger had not faded. His indifference to her request still enraged her.

It was only at night, when she lay in the coldness of her cot, that she wished for his company and his touch.

The journey to Tortuga continued as such.

Sophia spoke to him, for the first time in three days, only after gazing at the western cliff of Tortuga Island for a long time. Her voice carried no expression, and she would not allow her words to waver, though she felt like crumbling. She would miss this man, her lover, and this ship.

"I want to be taken home as soon as you've found your silly fortune. I want nothing more to do with pointless voyages or you."

Jack only nodded. "Aye."

They set out the next morning, laboring up the long trail due west. It was hard going and the footing was terrible, but they managed. When Sophia could afford to take her eyes off the trail, she would notice the beauty of the day and their surroundings. The sky was extremely blue, contrasting sharply with the Caribbean greenness of the ocean and the foliage around them. Tropical birds sang in the trees around them, occasionally taking flight in a sea of color.

Jack did not notice much about the environment, instead choosing to remain within his thoughts. Thoughts of the riches that were almost in his grasp, thoughts of saying goodbye once they were. He had known Sophia for an age, it seemed. What was it, six years? Seven? She seemed to make him loose track of time's progression. She'd become a part of his life on the ship, an everyday normality that he was only beginning to recognize as a blessing. But she would leave now, as everyone always did. He would cope and forget her face, as he always did.

Very suddenly he snapped from his reverie and decided to raise his crew's spirits with yet another story, embellished, of course. Something to fix his mind on anything other than her.

"'Ey, mate," Jack said, nudging the man at his side, "'ave you not yet heard the tale o' me an' the Syrian cannibals? No? Well. . ."

Everything was normal until they came to a clearing several hours into the trail, a soft place, peaceful, with a small spring and wild flowers blooming around its edge. It seemed a magical place, the darkness of the forest enclosing it from every angle. Sophia felt a tingle at her spine, and knew that they had come. "We are here."

She said it quietly in a voice sounding not her own, but all of the crew heard her. "What?" Jack asked, unable to mask the excitement in his voice.

"This is the place," Sophia repeated, her eyes scanning for something, anything, that could be a possible entrance into Ektibar's cave. Jack, too, was searching with a far more eager gaze than Sophia. Then he remembered.

"Say it, Sophie," he commanded, his voice deadly serious and with a hidden threat. If she wanted to, Sophia could deny him from everything with only the power of her will. The crew glanced between them, puzzled.

Sophia looked at Jack sharply, before realization dawned on her face. She felt somewhat hesitant and irrationally shy in response to his authoritative tone. It wasn't like him, but she guessed in the face of such riches he would resort to almost anything. After a flustered silence, Sophia managed to whisper, "_La Mujer Fatal_."

Jack spanned his eyes over the clearing again. There it was: a cave set in the far corner behind the spring. He must have missed it before. Grasping Sophia by the elbow lest she fall behind, he began to make his way towards the entrance, the crew following in bewildered silence.

The tunnel was dark and Sophia felt as if the air would suffocate. The tingle in her spine would not relent, and she had a foreboding sense that something was terribly wrong. Jack, however, was oblivious and actually began to hum a tune in his delight. He was going to be _rich_.

Finally, the channel opened into a large stone cavern. It was hollow and echoed the sound of their breathing, and the men stared and craned their heads to look at the impossible height in amazement. Sophia, however, was not looking at the cave.

There was a man standing with his back to them at the far end of the cave, legs spread apart and straight-shouldered with triumph. Sophia did not need to see his face to know who he was. "Jack!" She said in a strangled whisper, reaching blindly for the pirate's arm.

The man turned, and Sophia's swimming vision registered only the thin smile, curling at his lips like a maniac's.

"Hello, cousin. I was expecting to see you here at some time or another."

_The plans men bring to a battlefield are always the first casualties, and events unfold thereafter as the gods will._

_-- Daughter of Troy, Sarah B. Franklin_

**A/N: **Hah! Who says Chapter 22 has nothing to do with the main plot! The authoress always has these little plans up her sleeve, does she not?

Grrr.. QuickEdit is not letting me do the single dash I usually have between 'sections' of the chapter, as I call them and I don't feel like having that big long line between them because it's ugly. So, guess what? You guys get to guess where they should be. This may have made the chapter seem a little unorganized.

Anyway, I'm back from my vacation (obviously), but that's not much of an excuse for the terribleness of this chapter. Blah, makes me want to gag myself. I really, really think my writing's gone downhill in a major way, in which case I may not write a sequel, although I have the end of this fic as well as the sequel all planned out in my handy dandy little brain (and I'm not giving anything away!). So, let me know what you guys think and I'll use you're opinions as well to decide whether or not to continue.

I do, however, like the conflict between Sophia and Jack. You're not really sure who is doing the right thing, and whose philosophy on the issue is correct. Is Jack supposed to change or is Sophia supposed to accept him? Hmmm… I haven't really decided myself yet, either.

Reviews are good, peoples. I'm sorry I haven't been answering your reviews individually (since, uh, Chapter 16, I think), but now I'll answer the main questions you guys had.

**Women in Jack's lap**: First time she's _found _him with a girl, second time she's seen him with one. Refer to Chapter 6 (One of my favorite chapters, by the way).

**How Jack could do such a bad thing to Sophia**: He's a pirate! And he's Jack, which we know all means he's a manwhore.

**Yes, Norrington is dead.**

**How's Jack coping with having one girl at a time**: Well, I should think that would be obvious by now.

**I have not read the Iliad**. Yet. Really, really want to. I have, however, seen Troy and marveled at Brad Pit's biceps in the process.

Okay, I think that's it. Thanks again, my lovely lovely reviewer people. I need more now, though! I need more to write another chapter! I do I do! J


	25. As It Plays

Chapter: As It Plays

* * *

_While he painted everyone else, no one was there to paint him, to make him remembered._

_--Girl in Hyacinth Blue_, Susan Vreeland

* * *

Sophia felt tears pricking at her eyes. Why did everything have to go wrong? Couldn't it all _work _so she could finally go home and forget? She knew she was childish to think such, but simply could not disguise the torment on her face as she contemplated the unfairness of the situation.

Bertie was looking at her strangely. She'd been staring at him for nearly a minute, her eyes completely stony and expressionless to hide her thoughts. Quite suddenly, she turned to Jack, who glanced at her as if she'd finally cracked and gone as insane as her cousin.

"His name is Bertie and he's my cousin. When we were visiting my family in Port Ayuda he was locked in a room on the top floor. He's completely and utterly insane and obsessed with finding the Fortunes. I think. . . I think if we were to get between him and his goal he would kill us all without a second thought." Sophia whispered this all very quickly.

Jack nodded carefully, and Sophia almost saw his mind working with an intelligence that few deemed him capable of. He was thinking, formulating a plan as Sophia knew only he could: in a fraction of a second. As if snapping from a trance, he finally sprung into action, striding over to Bertie and clapping him chummily on the shoulder. "Ah, well. I see you've found yerself a bit lost, eh, mate? How's this: I take you back t' me ship, and after I finish up some business in Tortuga we'll take you home, savvy? I don't know why'd you want t' stay in this _cave_. 'S bloody empty," Jack said, serenading Bertie with enough information to keep him busy while the Pearl's well-trained crew moved slowly to surround them. It was only then that Sophia noticed that the cave _was _empty. _Where were the Fortunes?_

Bertie did not reply, instead focusing his entire attention on Jack's hand at his shoulder, his eyes narrowed into mere slits. Jack, noticing this, removed his hand slowly, careful to brush off the other man's clothes briefly while doing so. Then Bertie started to laugh, a sound frightening in its recklessness.

"You are inconsequential. You know nothing, silly man. Do you _know _why I am here? Do you know what lies in this cave?" Bertie's cold eyes slid over to where Sophia stood. "Oh. . . of course you do."

It happened so quickly that Sophia could barely follow her cousin's movements. Bertie drew back his fist to punch Jack squarely in the face and rushed over to clasp Sophia within the iron vice of his arms. Before she could scream she felt the cold tip of his dagger at the hollow of her throat. Jack stumbled back, shaking his head free of the pain that shot through his nose and up to his head. Reaching up to dab at the blood that trickled from his nostrils, he roared, "Oy! There's no need for that, mate!"

But Jack's face swam before Sophia's distracted eyes, for at that moment Bertie had begun to whisper in her ear with a voice akin to that of an over-zealous priest attempting to convert a heretic. "You have been a very naughty girl, my pretty cousin. I knew you were trouble the moment you stepped into my prison-room in the dark. Leading pirates to the Fortunes? Tsk tsk, your mother would be ashamed. Mine would as well, for certain, but she's not in this story anymore. . ."

Sophia's eyes widened in horror. "Bertie. . . What have you done?"

"You left the door unlocked, Sophia." She could see him grin from the corner of her eye. "My family was sitting in the parlor. . . You have no idea the hatred. . . My father locked me up, did you know that? He locked me up for doing what they told me to. I was just following orders. Their blood looked so perfect on the floor. . ."

Sophia felt like vomiting. Adriano, Vera, Elizabeth. . . her family, all dead. This man was a monster, without conscience. How could he murder his family?

As if reading her thoughts, Bertie continued: "Oh no, they're not all dead, my dear. Elizabeth, you remember? My _beautiful _sister." He paused. "I needed a map."

Sophia's gaze, hazy with panic, followed the direction in which Bertie pointed to see a girl huddled at the base of a boulder, her once glamorous dress in rags, her hair in tangled ringlets.

"_Elizabeth!_" Sophia screamed, before her voice was muffled by Bertie's suffocating hand. That poor girl. . . Sophia stopped struggling when she felt a dull pain in her neck and a rivulet of blood trickle down between her breasts. Her vision whirled, and she thought she might faint.

Bertie finally focused on Jack, who'd been watching and listening to the transaction silently to gain as much knowledge as possible to use for his own profit, his mouth lifting into a sneer of contempt. "I have a new idea, Mr. Sparrow, is it? You leave and you get Mrs. Norrington back unharmed, save for this." Bertie touched a searing finger to the small wound at Sophia's neck and she started in surprise. "If you don't," he persisted, "she dies. How's that?"

Jack lifted a finger to his chin, stroking the twin plaits there as if in thought. He was slightly unnerved that this lunatic had known his name, but it appeared that he had had a very long time to study in his room and may have come across mention of the infamous captain of the Black Pearl at some point. He shook off these troubled thoughts effortlessly, instead focusing on the task at hand. This was going to be a difficult sequence of events. "Ah. . . There's only one problem with that: I don't care a bloody bit about yer cousin and I'd much prefer whatever's in this cave, 'ere. Why don't you jus' kill 'er? Take 'er off me 'ands?"

Sophia felt rage simmer within her veins like poison. Fueled by anger, she savagely bit the hand of her captor and broke free her power of speech. "You slimy, filthy, evil little man! How—"

Jack skillfully used this moment of distraction to lunge forward and slam his elbow into the side of Bertie's head. Sophia felt her cousin's hold on her loosen and slipped out of his arms. She watched through cloudy eyes, her knees shaking, as Jack unsheathed his sword and leveled it carefully, allowing the silver tip to dance at Bertie's throat. "Ah. . . Mr. Cuthburt, I believe we have a change of plan in order," Jack declared cheerfully, in a tone similar to that of a middle-aged woman noting that the weather was pleasant at tea.

It was suddenly as if the cave exploded. Absolute pandemonium. Men emerged from behind rocks, between cracks, and rushed towards Jack's crew, who met the onslaught expertly, blades flashing bands of reflected light against the stone walls of the cave.

The cunning snake had deceived them into believing he was alone! Sophia looked at Bertie with disgust written plainly on her features. _Coward._

Jack spared only a fraction of his attention to notice this new development, but a second was all Bertie needed. He withdrew his sword and he and Jack were swiftly locked in a battle of conviction as well as skill, swords moving far to quickly to see.

Sophia stood, frozen. She watched the battle—for it was a battle, bloody and raw—unfold around her as if looking through a fine sheet of water. She felt helpless and stupid.

She did not know how to fight.

But Anamaria, wonderful, faithful Anamaria, took it upon herself to protect the only other female member of their little band. As a nameless man rushed towards Sophia with murder emanating clearly from his face, Anamaria let out an inhuman scream that frightened even Jack, caught in combat as he was, and stopped her opponent dead in his tracks. Then, looking more like a beautiful African warrior than a pirate, she did away with him with a quick slice of her sword.

"'Ere," she muttered, pressing a short-bladed dagger into Sophia's palm. "Don't jus' stand there like a bloody idiot." And then she went back to killing.

But Sophia could do nothing. She stood, clutching the weapon in her hand and watching everything but doing nothing. Nothing, until she saw the man rushing towards Jack's back, his sword ready to slice through the pirate's neck.

Sophia knew Jack would hear his running footsteps and he did, turning on his heel and abandoning his duel with Bertie to divide the other man's head cleanly from his body.

But Bertie took that opportunity to run.

Sophia felt a frightening anger that made her gut twist painfully and bile rise in her throat. Because of this man her uncle and aunt were dead and her cousin tortured. This man was a murderer and a rank with cowardice. Her legs were moving beneath her and she felt the leather hilt of the dagger in her hand. She stared at her cousins back with a concentration she did not know she possessed. She heard Anamaria calling her name but it was as if she were hearing the sound through a very long tunnel, faint and echoing. Raising the hand that held Anamaria's weapon, she sunk the blade into Bertie's back, between his ribs into his kidney. He fell like a stone to the hard ground.

Sophia sank to her knees and rolled her cousin over onto his injured back. She wanted to see his face. Before he could utter a word, she had the bloody blade against his neck, ready.

Bertie let out a forced chuckle that was every bit as demented as the raving Sophia had heard when she stepped into that dark room in her uncle's house. "Why, Sophia. I didn't think you had it in you."

Sophia braced her knee against his stomach, relishing in the grimace of pain that appeared on his face as she pressed his wound into the ground. "You killed them, you whoreson. You deserve to die."

He nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with her with the confidence of a child. Sophia flicked her wrist, and a shallow gash appeared red at Bertie's jaw. Her cousin's eyes grew crazed as he finally revealed the insanity outwardly that Sophia knew had infected his brain. "Do it. I've accomplished my purpose. I've done what they want me to do." He paused, a wide grin spreading across his cracked lips as he listened to the demons in his head. "_They want you to do it._"

Sophia slit his throat.

* * *

The skirmish was over and Jack picked his way through bodies towards Sophia. He'd seen her kill her cousin, seen the horrible realization dawn on her face as she finally grasped what she had done. She now kneeled, sitting on her heels, beside Bertie's cold corpse, still holding the bloodstained dagger that had killed him. Jack squatted down and, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, said her name, wondering if perhaps he would need to save her from her memories yet again. "Sophia?"

Sophia started at his touch, inhaling sharply as if it had hurt her. As she turned her face towards him he saw that she had been crying, the redness of her eyes and cheeks contrasting harshly with her pallor. Despite her obvious distress, he was glad to see that her eyes were not clouded and closed as they were when she was lost in her painful nightmares. In fact, it was quite the opposite; the gray of her irises was almost bright, her eyes incredibly lucid against the dark ambience of the cave. Then, opening her mouth, the pearl of a tear hanging at the corner of her lips, she heaved a great sigh. "I've never killed anyone before, Jack, but he deserved to die."

Sophia watched Jack nod, his eyes uncharacteristically sad. "I'm sorry, love. I should've done it so you didn't 'ave to."

She shook her head. "No, it was. . . right. I think it helped me," she whispered, turning her gaze back to look at the body of her cousin with his bloody throat. Then, quickly changing the subject, she continued. "Did we lose anyone?"

"Not one," came the reply. "Anamaria took down 'bout twenty o' 'em, though."

Sophia smiled wryly. "She saved my life."

"She's a good girl, she is."

Sophia nodded absently, her eyes wandering the cave and the aftermath of the chaos. Her eyes found the vision of a girl huddled against a rock, her head cradled against her knees. Sophia could hear her weeping. "Oh god. . ."

Sophia rose in a flurry of motion, leaving Jack to stare steadily after her. She sank down to her knees next to Elizabeth, gathering the girl close to her. Elizabeth's face was haggard, that of an old woman, and her eyes were brimming with terrible thoughts and memories. She was stiff at first in Sophia's arms, but then, recognizing that it was her cousin holding her, relaxed and sobbed bitterly against Sophia's shoulder, her tangled brown ringlets fanning out over her back.

Sophia murmured quiet things into her cousin's ear, her voice that of a mother's, low and comforting. But, despite her assurances, she froze when she heard Elizabeth's croaky tones. "I was raped. How can I go home? Everyone's dead! I will die. . . oh god, I will die, Sophia!"

Sophia's heart constricted. She knew how it felt to be violated by rough hands and even rougher men. "I was too, a long time ago. Life goes on, my dear. Life goes on, and you will _live_."

* * *

Sophia was preparing to leave and make the long trek back into town, with an arm around Elizabeth's shoulders for support, when Jack approached her. "Eh. . . You've forgotten somethin', love."

Sophia turned, curious. "What's that?"

Jack spread his arms wide, palms outstretched as if to indicate the largeness—and emptiness, for that matter—of the cave. _Ah. . ._ It was then Sophia remembered why, in fact, they were here. What had Bertie done with the Fortunes?

Sophia opened her mouth to inquire what Jack actually wanted her to _do _about the missing riches, but she promptly silenced when she noticed Elizabeth staring at Jack intently, her dull eyes focused on his face. After several noiseless moments, the young woman spoke. "You're name is not Captain Haverling."

Jack shook his head, grinning widely. He wondered now, looking at this scared child who huddled in Sophia's shadow like a shy kitten, how he could have been so attracted to Elizabeth. She was beautiful, granted, even through the dirt that marred her face, but girlishly so, and it seemed that this experience had brought her down to earth, so to speak. She was no longer the catty seductress that she once was. She was a frightened and scarred fifteen-year-old girl.

Sophia smiled as Jack, still sporting his lop-sided grin despite the obvious distressed condition Elizabeth was in, swept up her cousin's hand for a kiss as if she was the queen of Britain and her beauty astounded him as it did only several days before in Port Ayuda. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service, love," he declared. Elizabeth managed a small smile in response to his antics, and if she recognized his name she did not show it. Jack quickly got down to business. "Now, d'you think you could tell ol' Jack wha' yer brother did with the Fortunes of Ektibar?"

Sophia resisted a sigh. Of course.

* * *

As it turned out, Bertie had loaded everything in the cave onto two horse-drawn carts. Elizabeth, carefully taking slow steps as if it hurt her (it was perfectly likely that it did, Sophia noted, given what Elizabeth had endured), led them out of a secret side entrance where the wagons were hidden. Jack inspected it all meticulously, only to find —

"Papers! _Bloody_ _books_! Wha' the bloody hell was this Ektibar fellow _thinking_!" Jack bellowed, throwing parchment and finely bound books everywhere. He was absolutely _livid_ with anger. Sophia felt Elizabeth shrinking with fear beside her.

Sophia could not help but release a small, ironic smile. "And think of everything we've gone through to get here, Jack. . ." She murmured, not really sounding regretful at all. In fact, she was feeling quite wonderful. She felt as if a great burden had been lifted off her chest and she could now throw caution to the wind, she could actually _live _without fear of being kidnapped or tortured for the sake of riches. She didn't have to hide anymore. And, judging by her tiny, hopeful smile, Elizabeth was feeling the same.

While Jack kept grumbling on, Sophia bent down to pick up a scroll of parchment that Jack had abandoned on the ground, her eyes glancing over what was written there in messy—and original, she was sure—script curiously.

_King Lear_

_Written by William Shakespeare_

_Act I, Scene I: King Lear's palace. __Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND_

_KENT_

_I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall._

_GLOUCESTER_

_It did seem to us, but now. . . _

And it went on, word after word of poetry. "Jack. . ." Sophia said cautiously, her hungry eyes roving over the page.

"What?" Jack snapped irritably with no intention of actually hearing what she had to say. Sophia picked up another piece of parchment.

_I hereby bequeath ownership of the manor of the Thorwalds to Henry Thorwald, the sole heir. . . _

"Jack. . ." She chose another, flipping open the cover of an unmarked book to read the inscription written inside.

_On the day of our lord December 10, 1611, I, King James I, give this newly translated bible to Queen Anne, my wife, on the event of her birthday. . ._

Sophia stared. She stared at this wealth of knowledge in history that Jack was throwing like garbage onto the ground. "Jack! These papers and books are very valuable."

Jack turned swiftly on his heel to stare at her, brow furrowed. "How so, Mrs. Norrington?"

Sophia ignored the playful use of her surname. "Shakespeare, deeds of ownership, historical relics. . . It's all here. This is worth more than a hundred trunks full of gold."

Jack snatched the papers off of the ground, his grin spreading as his eyes quickly scanned the pages. "Well. . . not all treasure is silver and gold, now is it?"

* * *

_I feel excited; but do not want to be, for that is not right. I want that quiet rapture again. I want to feel the same powerful, nameless urge that I used to feel when I turned to my books. The breath of desire that then arose from the coloured backs of the books, shall fill me again, melt the heavy, dead lump of lead that lies somewhere in me and waken again the impatience of the future, the quick joy in the world of thought, it shall bring back again the lost eagerness of my youth. I sit and wait._

_-- All Quiet on the Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque_

* * *

**A/N: **Mmm. . . Only a couple more chapters to go. The tale of Sophia and Jack is almost finished! Until the end chapters should fly in because I'm really enjoying writing this section of the fic. The only reason this chapter took as long as it did was because when I was two-thirds of the way through writing I erased all of it and had to start all over.

I've given up and resigned to using the annoying line things. Bleh.

I just had to include the Fortunes consisting of written treasures (even if they are not at all accurate. . . haha. . . _King Lear_ being found in a cave in the tropics. . . Shakespeare is going to rise from the grave just to murder me) instead of the usual sort and I hope it's not too redundant. Speaking of which: does anyone know how the bible we read today came about? If so the third little relic Sophia reads should mean something to you.

Elizabeth's back! Yay! She is _not_ to be confused with Will's Elizabeth, however. Hmm. . . that is more than slightly befuddling, though. There is a reason they're named the same name, despite what you all may think, which is mainly because I very much dislike the Elizabeth of the movie (which might be the reason she's dead in my fic. . . hehe) and Sophia's cousin seemed fittingly evil to be her namesake. And I like to make you guys have to think.

I just made that up, actually. The real reason Elizabeth is named so is because I totally forgot that there was another Elizabeth in the story. Oops.

Next on the list: The upcoming chapter is one I've been waiting for. I already know exactly what's going to happen but you'll have to wait. Let's just say I know you all will be happy with the events of the soon to be Chapter 26, aptly named "Swimming and Reconciliation." There's a hint for you.

Well?


	26. Swimming and Reconciliation

Chapter: Swimming and Reconciliation

-

_"But that night she was like the little tottering, stumbling, clutching child, who of a sudden realizes its powers, and walks for the first time alone, boldly and with overconfidence. She could have shouted for joy."_

_-- The Awakening, Kate Chopin_

-

Sophia set down the trail with elation in her heart. She was free. She was going home. It was over.

She was leading one of the two surprisingly handsome horses pulling the carts that were laden with Jack's newfound literary treasure. This steed was a vibrant chestnut and Sophia thought she identified a trace of the distinctive Arabian dished nose. She won this particular gelding over with many pats and coos, and it was not long before the animal was nuzzling her arm in return for affection.

After pitying Elizabeth extensively in their first mile or so—she had been grimacing with every step—Sophia boosted her up into the cart and the girl now sat, her face drawn, amidst chests and sacks that dwarfed her. Jack, on the other hand, was ecstatic, and Sophia could see the bounce of excess energy in his step. After weeks of stress, of holding his crew at arm's length, he could be happy. Sophia was glad for him.

She found, much to her surprise, that the encounter with her cousin and his circle of murderous men had melted her anger towards Jack. The memory of him with the prostitute in the dreary gloom of The Weary Stag seemed very long ago. And she found that she missed their playful conversations, his easy smiles, and his hands against her skin.

They were nearly back now. She would be starting home tomorrow, and she promised herself that she _would _go. Why give up a life of stability and a loving husband for uncertainty and unquestionable heartbrokenness?

Jack's gravelly expression wreaked havoc on her thoughts. "Only a few more hours, mates! Then we can spend our newfound fortune on whatever we may bloody please. 'Bout time, 's wha' I say!" This was met with a roar of approval from his "mates." Sophia's mouth curled into a slight smile.

They were walking along a rather hazardous section of the trail now. It was wide enough for the carts, but the edge of the footpath dropped vertically nearly twenty feet down into the ocean, and, although the sea was calm today, many members of the crew commented on the dark hue that indicated its unusual deepness. Sophia, however, did not notice the danger; she was thinking about how profoundly she would miss the Pearl's crew and the life she had come to know in the past year.

She was snapped from her deliberation when a swarm of tropical birds took flight abruptly from a bush on the edge of the trail. It was a beautiful sea of pulsing color that Sophia took time to stop and glance at, laughing as the birds flew but a foot in front of her. It was this distraction that kept her from realizing that the horse that she was leading shied violently, the powerful muscles in the gelding's haunches tensing as it reared and leaped to the side.

Sophia could do nothing until it was too late. The horse's heavy shoulder rammed into hers with a force that pushed all of the breath out of her, and she stumbled away from the assaulting collision. She felt her feet leave the edge of the cliff and a strange weightless feeling as they suddenly met nothing but air. The last thing she saw was the striking chestnut gelding snorting and prancing near the cliff's edge, his nostrils flared as he watched her with wide, panicked eyes. _At least the Fortunes are all right_, she thought uselessly before plunging into the tepid water. Then she screamed

She would die now, she knew. Sophia waited for the pain.

Jack heard shouts and the clattering of a horse's hooves against the packed dirt and he turned to see Sophia stagger over the edge of the cliff. He listened to her scream, a high, desperate sound, and then the splash as she hit the water. "Christ. Bloody hell!" Jack barked, his shoulders tensing as adrenaline pounded through his body. She couldn't die.

He was in the water before he could hear his crew. Before he could see Elizabeth's devastated face, Anamaria's eyes fill uncharacteristically as she shouted into the water and to Sophia. Almost every member remembered what had happened the last time Sophia had fallen into the sea nearly six years ago and it frightened them to think that she, such a strong figure in their lives, could be gone.

Sophia flailed miserably in the green depths of the ocean. Her lungs were burning and she could do nothing but sink. She did not know how to swim.

Ah, but Jack was coming. She could see him stroking through the gloom, his eyes wide and searching her face as she gazed at him calmly through the haze of water. She felt his arm around her waist and then the sudden drive upwards as he kicked out sharply beneath them. It seemed an eternity before they reached the light above the waves, but reach it they did, and with a splash broke the churning surface. Jack was breathing heavily beside her, his arm still clasped firmly around her waist as he turned towards her and lifted a hand to move the soaking strands of her hair out of her face. He continued to use his legs and free arm to keep them afloat, but the effort was tiring. "Sophie!"

Sophia was coughing up salt water, a disgusting process that left her nose and mouth burning. She felt exhausted. She managed to choke out words so that Jack would know she was all right. She heard her voice like it was muffled. "I'm here."

She saw Jack's face relax, his lips miraculously managing to grin faintly. "Bloody good thing, too. Captain Jack Sparrow does not risk his own life for nothin'!"

They treaded water for several moments before someone from above found a rope and threw it down for them to catch. Sophia grasped it with weak muscles, clinging for all she was worth while Jack held on easily with one arm.

Once on dry ground Sophia lay on her back beside Jack, her chest heaving. The crew huddled around her with frightened eyes. It was only then that Sophia realized the strange absence of one thing that left her feeling uneasy. _Pain. _Where was the pain?

Jack and Elizabeth, the only two of their party that knew of Sophia's affliction, looked at her with worry written clearly on their faces. Jack was silent, turning his head as he lay next to her, nearly out of breath as she was. He watched her for signs of that overwhelming pain but found none. Elizabeth was not as calm.

"Oh god, Sophia! D-Don't let it hurt too much, it will pass in a moment! Just lie there, that's right. You're alright," she managed to tremble out.

Sophia was entirely shocked. Despite being out of breath, tired, and waterlogged, she felt perfectly fine. It was a very strange experience, to have been afraid of something for so long and then find out that, now, that fear has no logic behind it.

After lying mute for several more minutes, Sophia sat up, her eyes wide. Quickly, she looked at Jack. "There's no pain, Jack. Once the Fortunes are found there is no more use for it." Finally she smiled, her eyes showing utter relief. It was gone. "It doesn't hurt!"

Jack returned her grin, his face almost comical beneath the sopping ropes of his hair, before standing and wincing slightly as his sore muscles protested. Reaching down to pat Sophia gently on the shoulder, he said, "Tha's good, love," and left it at that. There was no use in getting sentimental.

The crew had been pretending not to hear this exchange, but Jack could not help but notice their curious looks. He swiftly changed the subject of conversation. "Well. . . shall we be on, then?"

-

Sophia couldn't sleep.

The crew had gone off to do whatever it was they did in Tortuga—Sophia opted not to think about it. Jack, strangely, volunteered to stay and look after the ship. Sophia did not have the energy to think what had prompted this sudden change in character.

They were leaving tomorrow, and she would be home in four days.

So she waited fruitlessly for slumber. Her legs were tired and sore but they would not relax. Elizabeth had been so frightened and unsure of herself on the ship that Sophia felt a pang of sympathy and allowed her to sleep beside her in her small cot. It was crowded, but Sophia found it comforting as well.

Elizabeth was breathing softly through her nose, and as she rolled over Sophia noticed the girl's eyeballs moving beneath her eyelids as she dreamt. She hoped that they were gentle dreams, not like the nightmares that she had experienced after her rape. Carefully, she lifted a hand to stroke the other woman's cheek, a sisterly gesture that surprised her.

Sophia was restless, and, after another hour of boredom, finally relented and stood up, padding out the door without bothering to put on breeches underneath her thigh-length nightshirt. The only other person on the ship was Jack, and she had no reason to be modest in his company.

The night was very still, the water like pale glass as it reflected the moonlight. Sophia inhaled the scent of salt water, half-decayed wood, and the hot, musty smell of rotting plants that drifted northward from tropical forests. She would miss this place. Very much.

Jack was standing at the bow, his elbow propped against the railing of the ship. Sophia went to stand next to him. They were silent for a long while.

"Tomorrow, eh? Mus' be excitin' for you, goin' home." Jack finally broke the silence, his voice low and very quiet.

Sophia nodded. "I've been away for so long, I'm afraid I'm not sure what to expect," she said, adding with a chuckle, "I'll probably grow very bored."

Jack did not answer nor smile, and she found this very strange. He was not one to be serious. He glanced downwards to where his fingers were toying with one of his numerous rings. Sophia watched him carefully as he turned towards her, his eyes raw with thoughts he had not bothered to disguise. "I've been thinkin', Sophie. . . I've made a lot of mistakes."

Sophia was quite dumbstruck. Jack Sparrow _did not_ admit that he _ever _made mistakes. But she knew. . . She knew what he was trying to say. He was struggling, she could see, with this rare confession, and she graciously cut in. "Hush. I know. I've made many as well, you know. I hid inside myself for years, I even hid my appearance, because of the actions of one man. I didn't even have to come with you when you dragged me away from those soldiers at Port Royal; I could have pulled away. It probably would have saved us both a lot of trouble. And perhaps I overreacted a bit when I found you with. . . well. . .you know. That woman. I didn't have the right to blame you."

_She is truly amazing. _Jack shook his head but said nothing, grinning. "How? How d'you do that?" He asked, bewildered.

"What?"

He didn't answer, and Sophia was content to let the silence hang for a moment. Balancing on her stomach, she leaned over the edge of the ship to look down into the faint ripples on the ocean's surface rather dangerously. Jack had to fight the urge to grab her arm lest she fall over. "I don't have to be afraid of the water anymore!" She declared with more than a hint of joy in her voice.

Sophia saw Jack grinning devilishly out of the corner of her eye. "Fancy a swim?"

-

Sophia stepped lightly into the shallows, the gentle waves lapping at her ankles with a caress that both delighted and frightened her. She did not know how to swim and the thought of losing her footing in the deeper part of the shore was terrifying.

Jack stood out further, the surface of the water just splashing against his bare stomach; he'd discarded his shirt earlier for the sake of easier movement while swimming. He watched Sophia carefully as she took small steps into the thigh-deep water, her nightshirt just skimming the ocean's surface. Her face was a shadow, for the moon was behind her and its light was shining through the thin garment she wore, silhouetting her body clearly. Jack could see the details of her frame that he remembered well and felt a familiar desire.

Sophia watched her feet, pale and warped beneath the water, as she walked. She was almost to Jack, and let out a shaky laugh. "It's very strange, Jack, to be afraid of something for so long. Old habits are hard to lose, I suppose."

Jack grinned easily, his eyes black in the darkness of the night. "Don't worry, love," he rumbled, his voice deep and somewhat throaty in its quietness.

Sophia smiled at him. He was always there to save her, she realized. "I'm not worried!" She insisted in a distinctly playful tone as she stepped further out into the depths, the water lapping at the curve of her hip. "Come on, then, if _you're _not frightened."

Well, if she was going to put it that way. Gently, Jack scooped her up and splashed out into deeper water with Sophia squealing in his arms. She was not afraid at all now. He set her on her feet, and Sophia gasped as the water came nearly up to her shoulders. "Oh god. . ." she moaned, her hands waving uselessly below the surface.

Jack hushed her with a touch on her shoulder. "You should go under, Sophie. . . 'ave to get used t' the water."

Taking a deep, frightened breath, she hurriedly dunked her head under the water and surfaced once again, breathless and pushing her hair back to blink the salty burn from her eyes. "Urg. The salt water stings."

Jack chuckled heartily in response to her expression of utter uncertainty and she glared at him. "It's not humorous at all, Jack. Imagine if you had to. . . face old Captain Barbossa after all this time and not seem a bit scared."

Jack frowned, sobering considerably. "How d'you know 'bout 'im?"

She shrugged. "Port Royal's a small town. Word travels," she mumbled.

After that, they were quieter. Jack taught Sophia to float with a gentle hand at the small of her back, and that touch brought back a myriad of memories. She remembered his hands on other places of her body as well. Her skin was tingling—she was not sure if it was from the coolness of the water or otherwise—by the time that Jack demonstrated actual swimming for her. She watched his arms, darkly tanned and shining with a slick of salt water, slice through the ocean as easily as if it was butter and he a knife. Hesitantly she tried several clumsy strokes herself. Jack told her she was doing well for a beginner, but Sophia had nothing to base her own opinion off except Jack's expert swimming, so she thought herself rather terrible. Nevertheless, Jack smiled at her.

Sophia was shivering slightly when Jack asked her if she'd like to return to the ship. "I'm a bit cold, so that might be nice," she responded politely. The lack of easy conversation was awkward.

"Alrigh', then. If you _insist_," Jack said with a cheeky grin, his eyes following her as she strode towards the dry beach. She might as well have been wearing nothing at all; the white nightshirt had become almost completely transparent in the water. Jack swallowed hard.

Sophia, remembering her manners, turned abruptly to thank him. "Oh, I almost forgot—" She stopped talking immediately as she noticed the absolute lust in his eyes. But this was different than before and she had not the thought to place how. She could not think about such things now, for she felt her skin flame and come to life under his scrutiny and knew that her body, not just her face, had flushed pink with a desire that responded it his. "Jack. . ." Her voice was husky and contained a seductive note that she had not intended.

Jack's face darkened significantly. He walked towards her through the water that rippled across his waist and raised a palm to cup her cheek. He felt a strange flutter in his chest as her wide gray eyes gazed calmly into his and she lifted her hand to brush her fingertips across the swarthy hue of his forehead and prickly cheek, the nail of her index finger smudging the kohl that had smeared from his left eye, before her hand moved to toy with his various braids and dreadlocks. Sophia's breathing was very shallow. Slowly, she moved towards him and, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leaned into his damp, firm chest and shuddered as he enfolded her in his arms, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. She lifted her face to kiss him and was met with the heat of his ultimate desire, his lips moving against hers with a desperation that warmed her.

She did not know how long they kissed, but Sophia felt herself, as if someone else was controlling her body, wrap her legs around his waist as Jack finally moved his lips from her mouth to her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there as he said her name reverently between delightful caresses. She was weightless in the water, her hips resting lightly against his, but she could feel the heat of his desire just as well. She tilted her head back, eyelids half-closed as if she was drugged with some enchanting brew that rendered her weak and willing. She did feel drugged, warm and loose and wonderful.

Jack could barely keep his desire in check. He'd truly missed her, he knew that now. She felt right as she pressed her body, her breasts and stomach and thighs, against his. He kissed her gently, sliding the slack garment from her left shoulder and stroking the round curve with rough fingers.

Sophia's eyes opened further as she noticed someone watching them from the ship a mere fifty yards away. It was Elizabeth. Sophia gave no sign that they had been discovered, and instead held the girl's gaze serenely, her pupils hazy with need. Elizabeth looked both shocked and curious, and Sophia could see her blushing even through the darkness of the night. Sophia knew what Elizabeth saw: the captain of the Black Pearl lavishing his lustful desires on Sophia, her esteemed cousin, whose well-formed legs were wrapped around the captain's waist like a whore's. Sophia knew she would no longer be respected in high society, now that she had ruined herself with a pirate. She realized, now, that she truly did not care what the high class of society thought of her anymore, and it surprised her. All she cared about was this man who had changed her and captured her entire being effortlessly. How had she changed so much without realizing it?

Sophia stared at her cousin for several more seconds, before the demands of her body captured her attention once more and she groaned as Jack brushed a hand across her breast. The next time Sophia looked, Elizabeth had gone.

Once again Sophia secured Jack's lips with her own in a heady kiss, before breaking apart, breathing hard, and speaking. "Let's go up to the ship, Jack. . ."

Jack could have taken her right there in the fertile depths of the ocean, but instead, for her sake, nodded and loosened his hold around her waist minutely. Sophia untwined her legs from his body, and, silent, they walked back to shore and onto the ship. Once they had retreated into the privacy of Jack's cabin, Sophia whispered his name again and he reached for her, drawing her close to his body.

Then, they went to bed.

-

_"Nothing—and I mean nothing, Carly Banks—is crazy if you're in love."_

_-- Trans-Sister Radio, Chris Bohjalian_

-

**Author's Note: **Mmm. A very "feel-good" chapter (finally!), I think. One more chapter left and then a short epilogue after that, just warning you.

Thanks to everyone who responded to last chapter. It's wonderful to read all of your individual reactions, comments, and criticisms. Lashandra, thank you for the entirely valid "long-winded speech." I was cringing when writing that particular section of Chapter 25, but I _had _to include somethingabout the greatest playwright of all time in this story. In the author's note of that chapter, I believe I said something like "Shakespeare would be rising from the dead just to murder me" for writing something in which his great play, "King Lear," was in the _Caribbean _hidden in a _cave, _and I am still waiting for him to come at me bearing a butcher knife. Believe me, I, who always at least attempt to write with as much historical accuracy as possible, do know that Shakespeare was not as popular in the late 17th century as I depicted, and I am always thrilled to have fellow history buffs point out my mistakes.

One thing I don't know, however, is the year in which "The Pirates of the Caribbean" was supposed to have taken place. I know old William died in 1617 (or about), so that would mean, going by what lovely Lashandra said (movie happened 30 years after his death), that POTC took place in the late 1640's. Again, a prize for anyone who knows exact dates. Did I miss something in the movie or was it mentioned elsewhere? If someone knows please let me know in a review, e-mail, etc. I'm probably just letting my dumb blonde (which is strange, because I'm not blonde) surface, but I'd still enjoy knowing.

And I think that's quite enough of that. Talk to you all when I post next (and final, if you don't count epilogue) chapter. Everyone enjoy yourselves and have a _very _happy weekend.


	27. Done

Chapter: Done

-

_Here's much to do with hate, but more to do with love. __Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, __O anything of nothing first create! __O heavy lightness, serious vanity, m__isshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, f__eather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, s__till-waking sleep that is not what it is! __This love feel I, that feel no love in this._

_-- Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare_

-

Sophia woke sometime during the night, encased in Jack's arms. Safety. His forehead was resting against her shoulder, and she felt his breath against her neck. Her skin was still salty from the ocean.

They both knew, now, that their relationship was far more than physical.

Perhaps it was the way Jack looked at her as he watched her beneath him, arched and taut like the strings of a violin, throat exposed as she threw back her head in her consuming desire. His eyes were soft and completely exposed, and she'd never before seen him look as he did then. Afterwards she had kissed him, poured out her soul in a silent promise. He hadn't drawn away. For the first time, they'd truly made love. Now, she stroked the broad span of his shoulders with the tenderness of a wife, the wife she had never been to her true husband.

She felt him move against her skin and exhale in a quiet sigh. Sophia frowned. What was she going to do? Before it had been simple; this was more complicated. Chaotic. How could she go home? She had promised herself she would leave these adventures behind her and forget, but she could not remember what her life had been like before The Black Pearl. She must have done something. Maybe she sewed and cooked and cleaned like everyone else.

That sounded very boring, now.

"Jack. . ." She whispered, her fingertips coming to brush across his forehead.

"Mmm."

"What am I going to do?"

Jack sighed again, and left the warm crook of her shoulder to prop himself up with his elbow. He felt his throat constrict as he looked at her. Her hair tumbled lightly across her shoulders and breasts and her eyes were dark in the shadows. He could simply not imagine life without her. His voice was a low rumble when he spoke and his eyes seemed impossibly black. "'Bout what, love?"

Love. "I don't know what to do. . . I was supposed to go home," she murmured, withdrawing her gaze from his in a desperate attempt to quell the tremors in her skin.

Jack's face visibly darkened, and Sophia watched his eyes go stony. "'S your choice. You know tha'," he said thickly. His mind preoccupied, Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, intent on finding his trousers. He needed to be out in the open air tonight. He needed to think.

Sophia felt anxiety well up inside her like a toxin. "But if it was your decision?" She needed to know.

"It's not." He left her then, despite the voice in his head that told him to go to her, to plead with her to stay.

Sophia, her legs tangled in the sheets, white on white, sank back down into the pillows but could not sleep.

-

Jack was still outside, staring out over the ocean, when the sun rose. He said nothing as he heard footsteps behind him, expecting Sophia. But it was Elizabeth who stood beside him, her fingers dancing nervously over her tattered skirts. Finally, she spoke, her voice small. "Do you want her to stay with you?"

Jack looked at her sharply to find the girl's intense green eyes staring at him blearily and with wisdom far to great for a mere fifteen-year-old. Jack gazed at her mutely. He didn't particularly wish to talk to her. He had been quite enjoying himself before she'd come along and ruined his silence. "'S not me decision. She can do what she likes."

Elizabeth shot him an exasperated glance, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're impossible. All men are. I swear I'll never marry," she said childishly, and Jack quirked an eyebrow with silent amusement. He thought that he saw a shadow of pain flash across her beautiful face, turning her eyes bitter. "I'm spoiled anyway," she continued in a deceptively nonchalant manner. After pausing, she spoke again. "If you ask Sophia to stay she will. There's nothing left for her back home."

With that, the young woman walked away.

-

Sophia was busy attempting to bury herself in the sheets of Jack's bed, her mind whirling in circles as she desperately tried to make the most important decision of her life. Her eyes were open but she did not notice Elizabeth as she opened the door timidly and walked over to the bed where Sophia lay. She was naked under the sheets, but Elizabeth either didn't notice or simply did not care. Sophia felt the bed sink down as Elizabeth sat next to her. "I saw you last night," said Elizabeth.

Sophia didn't move. "And I you."

"Do you love him, then?" the girl asked quietly, her hand coming to rest on Sophia's bare shoulder.

Sophia's entire musculature tensed as she rolled over, clutching the sheets to her breast, to stare into the eyes of the young woman who was beginning to feel like her sister. "I don't know. I'm not sure I've ever loved anyone before. I don't know what it feels like."

Elizabeth shrugged her thin shoulders and looked at her with a sadness that made Sophia's heart break like the fragile wing of a dove. Sophia wrapped an arm around Elizabeth's waist and drew the girl down to lie beside her. Her cousin needed a mother right now. After a while Elizabeth spoke, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I think you do. Love him, I mean. What else could cause you so much grief? Mother. . ." She hesitated as she remembered that Vera was dead. "Mother used to say that being in love is painful."

Sophia smiled faintly, but was not about to take the opinion of a girl just out childhood over her own instinct. She still did not know. "Your mother was probably correct," Sophia said, mostly for her cousin's benefit.

Elizabeth huddled closer to Sophia and was silent for a long time. Soon Sophia felt warm tears on her shoulder as they fell from her cousin's eyes like pearls clouded with salt. "Last night you were happy, Sophia. You looked content. I saw it in your eyes," said Elizabeth, muddled with pain and confusion. "When I was. . . well. . . I didn't understand. I didn't know that a man put himself inside you. It hurt terribly. Why were you so happy?"

Sophia was quiet for a while, before she lifted Elizabeth's chin to brush the girl's tears away. "When you find the right person you'll know. It will be frightening for a time, but you'll understand. It's. . . difficult to explain." Sophia fought down a smile at Elizabeth's naïveté, but tried to articulate how she felt as clearly as possible. Anything more would confuse the girl, especially after having experienced rape.

Elizabeth nodded and, sniffling, stood up. "Captain Sparrow wants you to stay, I think."

"I know he does, Elizabeth. I'm not blind. But I don't know what I want yet," said Sophia carefully.

Elizabeth said nothing and, obviously deliberating over the issue extensively, wandered out the door and left Sophia to her thoughts.

-

Jack didn't know how long he stayed out, his elbows resting against the railing of the ship, his unseeing eyes staring stoically into the blue waves. Time blurred and melded together. He tried to imagine the ship and his life without Sophia.

But everything blasted into sharp focus when he felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist and a familiar body arch so that Sophia could lay her cheek against his back and sigh. She stayed like that for several minutes, eyes closed, feeling his heartbeat and muscles bond together with hers.

Then she knew she loved him. They'd been through so much together, brought one another through more difficult times that they ever could have imagined, and she loved him.

When she spoke her voice was soft. "I'm staying."

Jack sighed, forcing her arms apart as he turned swiftly around and caught her in a hard kiss. Then he said, "I knew you couldn't resist me, love."

Sophia smiled, her mind still reeling from his kiss. "Cheeky."

"Pirate." He kissed her again.

-

That night, completely contented and safe in her lover's embrace, Sophia dreamt a terrible dream.

_She watched through a pane of glass as her husband rounded on the still form of Jack. Her lover's once beautiful span of back was flayed open and bleeding as the steel head of the whip tore at his brown skin. She could do nothing but plead._

_"No! Stop, please! James!" She clutched at her husband's ridged arm._

_"Step back, Sophia." He jerked his arm and sent her sprawling to the ground. Jack wasn't moving and the last of the lashings was finally dealt. _

_Sophia ran to Jack's side and sank to her knees, her fingers fumbling with the rope that bound his hands. Finally, he tumbled to the ground, rolling over to reveal the bruised and bloody face that made Sophia gasp._

_One hundred lashes. No man could survive that._

_Ignoring James's commands to keep away, she laid her head against Jack's broken, unmoving chest, tears falling silently from her eyes._

_After an infinite amount of time, Sophia turned her blank pupils towards her husband's face. He was flushed with rage and Sophia watched his knuckles turn white against the handle of the whip. _Use it, _Sophia urged silently. _Let me join him. _But James did nothing._

_"Why?" Sophia screamed shrilly through parched lips. "It was all my fault! He's done nothing! I seduced him, James! Punish _me_! You've killed him and he did nothing!" She was nearly hysterical now as she cradled Jack's head in her lap. Her fingertips smoothed back the rough strands of black hair from his glassy eyes. They were still open. Empty._

_James's voice seemed to resonate from all sides and reverberate in her head until it hurt, and yet he spoke softly. "He is a pirate, my love." He used the title as if calling her a whore. "He took terrible advantage of you. He deserves to burn in hell where he belongs." _

_Sophia let out a high screech of horror and pain as she rushed at him, but suddenly he was not there. There was nothing but empty space and Jack's body was crumbling into black ants that scuttled across her bare feet. She heard a roar and looked up to see the colossal sheet of the ocean rising over her head. It blocked out the sun, and then there was blackness. Blackness and the ache of loss. _

She woke with a scream, her brow beaded with sweat and tears running down her cheeks. Even seconds after she awoke, the details of the dream faded, but the message and feeling of it remained and made her fingers tremble. He was dead. James had killed him.

Jack was so startled by Sophia's outburst that he fell off of the bed and landed with a resounding thump on the hard wood floor. Scrambling up, he clambered over to Sophia and gathered her shaking body into his arms. "Wha' is it, Sophie? What's wrong with you?"

Sophia jumped as she felt his arms around her. He was dead. Then she felt his body heat and his heart beating and settled, burying her face into his shoulder. "Oh god. . . you died right before my eyes. James killed you. He said you deserve to burn in hell because you took advantage of me," she whimpered, clinging to him.

Jack stroked her hair and said nothing, wondering if perhaps her nightmare did have some aspect of truth to it. What would Norrington do if he ever caught the man that had taken his wife from him? Jack wasn't worried in the least—that man's pathetic ship would never catch The Black Pearl—but it did bring rise to a new dimension of their relationship. He'd all but forgotten about the commodore.

Sophia pictured him motionless and cold over and over again, squeezing her eyes shut to try and block the image. "He's searching for us, I know he is. He'll never stop if I stay. He'll kill you and force me to live as I did. . . without meaning." Her voice broke after that, closing her throat and rendering her unable to speak.

Jack lifted her chin and ran his thumb across her cheekbone. "He can't catch The Pearl, you know tha'. I won't let 'im take you away," he murmured, his black eyes drilling into hers. Sophia looked away.

"But there's still a chance, Jack, and you can't stop him if you're dead. You don't know him. When he's determined he'll stop at nothing, and he's not at all forgiving. He'd kill you just for touching me," Sophia whispered breathlessly, pausing before leaning in towards him and pressing a desperate, hard kiss to his lips. "I have to go back, Jack. I can't stay knowing that he could come any day. You understand, don't you?"

Jack stared over her head as she melted into him and remained rigid despite her lips at his shoulder. She would leave. He couldn't force her, he refused to. The pain hurt deep in his chest but he masked it with indifference. "Aye, love."

Sophia saw right through his façade. "I'm sorry. . . I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were killed. I'd sooner live an empty life with a man I didn't. . ." She caught herself before she said "love. " She couldn't bring herself to speak the word aloud. "With a man who's company I didn't enjoy than know I was the cause of your death," she finished lamely.

Jack frowned. "You've nothin' t' be sorry 'bout, love. I told you tha' you could go home after everythin' was over an' now it is."

Sophia looked at him with her heartbreaking eyes and then, quickly, leaned in to kiss him with a passion that she drew from her very essence and left her feeling void. Jack nipped her lip aggressively and Sophia thought of it as the punishment that he had seemed too indifferent to administer. Grasping her shoulders, he rolled her over and pressed her into the mattress with his body, before exchanging the contact to a lighter, more gentle touch as his fingertips moved across her collarbone. Sophia had the impression that he was trying to commit her entire body into memory. The feel of her skin, how her muscles moved across her bones, the soft globes of her breasts and the swell of her hips. Then he kissed her again and she surrendered her thoughts.

When she awoke the next morning he was gone and the ship was moving beneath her. They were on their way.

-

After only several hours Jack returned to find Sophia staring at the ceiling, still naked in his bed, and they made love again. Sophia gasped and bit his shoulder as he moved over her. Jack quirked his lips afterwards as he examined the red mark she'd left there. "Ye bloody hellcat, you," he growled, exaggerating his accent and grinning. The smile did not reach his eyes. Sophia, feeling a pang of distress, gathered him into her arms again and he laid his head on her chest. She could feel him exhale against her breasts.

"Tell me about the Fortunes. Did you look through them again?"

Jack told her how he had taken the newfound treasure to his "friend at 'The Silver Rider'" and his assumptions had been correct; the loads of seemingly useless papers, books, and documents were worth more than any treasure he had ever dreamed of. Sophia could see the gleam of success in his eyes as he spoke. To her the triumph was, obviously, somewhat bittersweet.

-

The days passed in a swift blur for Sophia. She and Jack rarely left his cabin, and despite the impending goodbye, the time with Jack, utterly alone and without interruption, was the happiest in her life. She grew more in love every day, but had not to courage to say so.

Jack, for the first time in his life, was completely content. Every hour the emotion that squeezed his heart to its will grew, and he did not know how to place it. All he knew was that his passion for this woman multiplied ten times over each night so that, now, it nearly consumed him.

But soon it was the night before they would dock at Port Royal, just inside the tiny cove in which Sophia had seen the floating light nearly a year ago.

Jack was not gentle with her that night. She knew that she would be sore the next morning, and she was thankful because it would remind her of him all the more. She would remember how he felt inside her for longer. He sucked harshly at her nipple, and she groaned with sheer pleasure when he sheathed himself completely within her. The tears began to slip from beneath her eyelids as she drew closer to release and soon she was crying quietly. Jack kissed her tears away with abandon, his mouth lingering on the salty wetness to memorize how she tasted. "Don't cry, love. . ." he said thickly between thrusts, but the sound of his voice only made her cry more tears.

They continued to fall afterwards, when Jack held her tightly against his sweaty chest. She watched the small droplets on his brown skin. Finally, she spoke, her voice heavy with crying, "Promise you won't forget, Jack. . ."

He grinned widely despite the feeling that his body was breaking in two. He smiled for her. "Never. 'S impossible, Sophie. You're. . ." Then he was lost for words and kissed her forehead gently.

In the morning she left before he awoke, and went to her cabin to gather her meager possessions.

-

Port Royal looked like a distant prison to Sophia. She stood, looking over the bow of the ship and fighting tears. She wouldn't cry again today.

As they neared the cove the crew said their goodbyes. Elizabeth seemed to have made friends on the ship and, in one brief escape from Jack's cabin several days ago for food, Sophia had seen her scrambling about the ropes, her dress shorn off at the knees like a pirate princess. She had changed on the ship, just as Sophia had.

Sophia was quiet and withdrawn as she exchanged long embraces with every single crewmember. Anamaria's eyes were brimming with rare moisture. Each of the men held onto her tightly. "We'll miss you, Sophia," or "I hope to see you again, Miss Cuthburt." Those who had known her from before still called her by her maiden name.

She did not see Jack.

Just as she was about to depart, to walk down the narrow gangplank and onto dry land, he came. Elizabeth was already on the shore and waiting for her and the crew was standing in a huddled mass behind her, some wiping discreetly below their eyes. Jack appeared out of nowhere and swept her up in a tight embrace and a kiss that stole her breath away. Sophia wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her throat feverishly. She heard him murmur something against her skin.

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

"Don't go."

There it was. He'd finally said it.

She would die if she knew she was the cause of his death. She'd torture herself until she couldn't take it anymore and then she'd end her own life. It was better if they stayed separate.

He continued. "I. . ."

She knew what he was going to say and she couldn't bear to hear him say the words. _I love you. _"Shh. . . I know, Jack."

Then she left him. She slipped out of his arms and his life and walked down the gangplank with her eyes straight ahead, imagining his face as he watched her leave. It was only after she had rounded the hill, her arm intertwined with Elizabeth's for support, that she allowed herself to cry.

-

Jack watched her go, his eyes betraying no feeling, nothing of the torture he was submitting to now. He let her leave.

The crew watched in silence, respectful of their captain. They'd quietly averted their eyes as he'd held her for the last time, kissed her skin for the last time in his life. He was sure he would not see her again. He would never come back to Port Royal. The grief was too great.

He turned to look each and every one of his men in the eye. Their faces betrayed their sadness. Anamaria was crying openly, tears running down her face. She let them dry on her cheeks.

This would not do. He could hide his pain easily; he'd done it before. But his crew would have to forget. Pirates could not hold sorrow close to their hearts.

"We've got a bloody treasure t' spend, mates. What're you all doin' standin' around?"

Their faces brightened minutely as they remembered the hoard below deck. As they hurried to cast off, Jack watched the sloping precipice that Sophia had disappeared over just moments before. There were no words to describe how much he would long for her in the weeks and months ahead.

But she was lost to him now. She had another life.

-

Later, Sophia would not remember the walk home. She put one foot in front of the other but she remembered none of it. She only remembered Charlotte's face when she walked into her semi-familiar house with Elizabeth in tow.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Where have you been, Miss Sophia? Good God, we thought you were dead ten times over!" The distraught maid stammered, holding a hand to bosom and fanning herself with her apron.

Sophia looked blankly at her and did not answer. Elizabeth stepped in shyly. "She'll tell you all later. I think what Sophia needs now is a good rest in her own bed."

Charlotte nodded. "Oh, of course! You must be exhausted. Come along, dear." With that, she bustled towards the stairs, but Sophia's voice stopped her.

"Where is my husband?"

Charlotte turned, her eyes wide and her lips pressed together so that they formed a thin white line. "You haven't heard. Of course you haven't. You've been gone for much longer. . ." She mumbled as if to herself, her hands fiddling nervously in front of her body.

Sophia looked sharply at her. "What? What happened? Where is he?"

Charlotte dropped her eyes to the floor and curtseyed out of habit. "We've been alone here for months, miss. You husband. . . the commodore's ship sank nearly five months ago while he was looking for you. On his way to India, if I remember correctly. He'd had an informant tell him that they'd seen a pirate's ship. . . the one that took you. Sparrow, was it? We haven't heard from him since. . . It's a great tragedy, miss. The whole town's been miserable. . ."

But Sophia heard nothing more. James was dead. She wasn't bound to anyone. She could be free. Jack was safe. There was nothing left for her here. _She'd made a terrible mistake_.

Sophia turned on her heel and ran out of the door. No one followed her, but she heard both Elizabeth and Charlotte's voices call her name. She ran down the path on which she had come but did not remember. She ran, stumbling, down the hill. She had to get to Jack.

The rocky beach was wide and vacant. _Empty. _She saw no ship on the horizon.

They'd left.

She was lost. She would die here, she was sure.

She loved him and he'd left, just as she had.

"No. _NO!_" Her voice reverberated off of the cliffs around her but never reached the ears of another soul. She was alone and always would be.

She sank to her knees in the coarse sand, her face wet with tears as it would be forever.

Always.

She stayed like that for hours until the tide came in and soaked her thighs with sea-brine. She stayed, sobbing into her hands, until she had no more tears and her mouth was dry with thirst. Then she stood on shaky legs and went back to the house that did not feel like her own.

No one ever saw the lone woman kneeling on the sand that day, wishing for a love that never was.

-

_We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust._

__

_-- The Red Tent, Anita Diamant_

__

_-_

**A/N: **Well, that's it. The End. Finite. Fine. Nada más. I know I promised an epilogue, but, unfortunately, I've decided that it just isn't necessary. This seemed a proper closure for me.

It could never have been, you know, at least not in this story. They were too late and too complicated and too different. I'm exhausted now, and Sophia's all alone. How depressing.

It's been a very long journey, hasn't it? 01-07-04 to 09-22-04. More than nine months. Twenty-seven chapters. About a gazillion words. Thanks to every single person who has ever, ever read this. The other day my esteemed English professor happened to say, **"If you write something and no one reads it, you haven't completed your process as an author." **I am a very firm believer in that philosophy, and I thank you all for completing my writing.

There will be a sequel. I don't know when—I need to rest and focus on school for a bit—but I will eventually get around to it. It may be a couple weeks or it may be next summer. In the meantime, I may add a chapter or two to one of my one-shots or start a new, more relaxed fic. So far, this is the working title for the sequel: **Lady Ektibar and the Pirate**. It's crap and if anyone has _any _suggestions, by all means, do tell. Just something general about Jack and Sophia. I can tell you that the sequel will be much shorter and be more about their relationship than an actual adventure. Sound good?

I have a treat for you all. The first person to answer the question below correctly will receive the epilogue that never was for their VERY own. To share or not to share, that is your choice. Please send the answer to me via my e-mail at . The question:

**What is the name of the only _real and working _ship to be used in the filming of POTC? Where does she commonly travel to in the summer? Where was she en route to on September 7th? **

(Technically that's three questions, so I'll give you a hint(s): a, the answers to the second and third questions are very near to my heart, and b, look on _la _website, _if_ you can find it.)

And another thing: on my down time (between this story and sequel) I may do little cookies, tidbits, if you will, concerning Jack and Sophia for my own amusement. If you wish to receive said texts, please either give me your e-mail in a review or just send it to me.

And now, for the last time, adios and gracias. I shall see you all soon. And, as always, tell me what you think.


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